THE 

WHITE 
SISTER 


IC-NRLF 


fl3S 


F  •  MARION 
CRAWFORD 


/BERKELEY 

LIBRARY 

I     UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


THE   WHITE   SISTER 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
ATLANTA   •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


/#,.//,</,/ 


THE  WHITE   SISTER 


BY 


F.    MARION    CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  DIVA'S  RUBY,"  " SARACINESCA," 
"IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KING,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1909 

All  rights  rtteri>td 


COPYRIGHT,  190S, 
BY   F.   MARION   CRAWFORD. 

CoPTRioinr,  1909, 
BY   F.  MARION  CRAWFORD. 

COPYMGHT,  1909, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  May,  1909. 


LOAN  STACK 


Nortooot) 

J.  8.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  A  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


THE   WHITE   SISTEE 


707 


VIOLA  ALLEN   AS  THE  WHITE  SISTER 


THE  WHITE   SISTER 

CHAPTER  I 

'I  CANNOT  help  it/  said  Filmore  Durand  quietly.  'I 
paint  what  I  see.  If  you  are  not  pleased  with  the  like 
ness,  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  keep  it.7 

The  Marchesa  protested.  It  was  only  a  very  small 
matter,  she  said,  a  something  in  the  eyes,  or  in  the 
angle  of  the  left  eyebrow,  or  in  the  turn  of  the  throat; 
she  could  not  tell  where  it  was,  but  it  gave  her  niece 
a  little  air  of  religious  ecstasy  that  was  not  natural  to 
her.  If  the  master  would  only  condescend  to  modify 
the  expression  the  least  bit,  all  would  be  satisfactory. 

Instead  of  condescending,  Filmore  Durand  smiled 
rather  indifferently  and  gave  his  pallet  and  brushes  to 
his  man,  who  was  already  waiting  at  his  elbow  to  re 
ceive  them.  For  the  famous  American  portrait-painter 
detested  all  sorts  of  littej,  such  as  a  painting-table, 
brush-jars,  and  the  like,  as  much  as  his  great  predecessor 
Lenbach  ever  did,  and  when  he  was  at  work  his  old 
servant  brought  him  a  brush,  a  tube  of  colour,  a  knife, 
or  a  pencil,  as  each  was  needed,  from  a  curtained  recess 
where  everything  was  kept  ready  and  in  order. 

'I  like  it  as  it  is/  said  Giovanni  Severi,  resting  his 
hands  on  the  hilt  of  his  sabre,  as  he  sat  looking  thought 
fully  from  the  portrait  to  the  original. 


2  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  young  girl  smiled,  pleased  by  his  approbation 
of  the  likeness,  which  she  herself  thought  good,  though 
it  by  no  means  flattered.  On  the  contrary,  it  made 
her  look  older  than  she  was,  and  much  more  sad;  for 
though  the  spring  laughed  in  her  eyes  when  she  looked 
at  the  officer  to  whom  people  said  she  was  engaged, 
their  counterparts  in  the  portrait  were  deep  and  grave. 
Certain  irregularities  of  feature,  too,  were  more  ap 
parent  in  the  painting  than  in  nature.  For  instance, 
there  was  a  very  marked  difference  between  the  dark 
eyebrows;  for  whereas  the  right  one  made  a  perfect 
curve,  the  other  turned  up  quite  sharply  towards  the 
forehead  at  the  inner  end,  as  if  it  did  not  wish  to  meet 
its  fellow;  and  the  Marchesa  del  Prato  was  quite  sure 
that  Angela's  delicate  nose  had  not  really  that  aquiline 
and  almost  ascetic  look  which  the  great  master  had 
given  it.  In  fact,  the  middle-aged  woman  almost 
wished  that  it  had,  for  of  all  things  that  could  happen 
she  would  have  been  best  pleased  that  her  niece  should 
turn  out  to  have  a  vocation  and  should  disappear  into 
some  religious  order  as  soon  as  possible.  This  was  not 
likely,  and  the  Marchesa  was  by  no  means  ready  to 
accept,  as  an  alternative,  a  marriage  with  Giovanni 
Seven,  whom  she  had  long  looked  upon  as  her  own 
private  property. 

Filmore  Durand  glanced  from  one  to  another  of  the 
three  in  quick  succession,  stroked  his  rather  bristly 
moustache,  and  lit  a  cigarette,  not  because  he  wanted 
to  smoke,  but  because  he  could  not  help  it,  which  is  a 
very  different  thing.  Then  he  looked  at  his  picture  and 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  3 

forgot  that  he  was  not  alone  with  it ;  and  it  still  pleased 
him,  after  a  fashion,  though  he  was  not  satisfied  with 
what  he  had  done. 

Great  artists  and  great  writers  are  rarely  troubled 
by  theories;  one  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  mature 
genius  is  that  it  springs  directly  from  conception  to 
expression  without  much  thought  as  to  the  means;  a 
man  who  has  used  the  same  tools  for  a  dozen  years  is 
not  likely  to  take  his  chisel  by  the  wrong  end,  nor  to 
hesitate  in  choosing  the  right  one  for  the  stroke  to  be 
made,  much  less  to  'take  a  sledge-hammer  to  kill  a 
fly/  as  the  saying  is.  His  unquiet  mind  has  discovered 
some  new  and  striking  relation  between  the  true  and 
the  beautiful;  the  very  next  step  is  to  express  that 
relation  in  clay,  or  in  colour,  or  in  words.  While  he  is 
doing  so  he  rarely  stops  to  think,  or  to  criticise  his  own 
half-finished  work;  he  is  too  sure  of  himself,  just  then, 
to  pause,  and,  above  all,  he  is  too  happy,  for  all  the 
real  happiness  he  finds  in  his  art  is  there,  between  the 
painfully  disquieting  ferment  of  the  mental  chaos  that 
went  before  and  the  more  or  less  acute  disappointment 
which  is  sure  to  come  when  the  finished  work  turns  out 
to  be  less  than  perfect,  like  all  things  human.  It  is  in 
the  race  from  one  point  to  the  other  that  he  rejoices  in 
his  strength,  believes  in  his  talent,  and  dreams  of  un 
dying  glory;  it  is  then  that  he  feels  himself  a  king  of 
men  and  a  prophet  of  mankind;  but  it  is  when  he  is 
in  this  stage  that  he  is  called  vain,  arrogant,  and  self- 
satisfied  by  those  who  do  not  understand  the  distress 
that  has  gone  before,  nor  the  disillusionment  which 


4  THE   WHITE  SISTER 

will  follow  soon  enough,  when  the  hand  is  at  rest  and 
cool  judgment  marks  the  distance  between  a  perfect 
ideal  and  an  attainable  reality.  Moreover,  the  less  the 
lack  of  perfection  seems  to  others,  the  more  formidable 
it  generally  looks  to  the  great  artist  himself. 

It  was  often  said  of  Durand  that  his  portraits  were 
prophetic;  and  often  again  that  his  brushes  were 
knives  and  scalpels  that  dissected  his  sitters'  characters 
upon  the  canvas  like  an  anatomical  preparation. 
'  I  cannot  help  it/  he  always  said.  1 1  paint  what  I  see.' 
It  was  not  his  fault  if  pretty  Donna  Angela  Chiaro- 
monte  had  thrown  a  white  veil  over  her  dark  hair,  just 
to  try  the  effect  of  it,  the  very  first  time  she  had  been 
brought  to  his  studio,  or  that  she  had  been  standing 
beside  an  early  fifteenth  century  altar  and  altar-piece 
which  he  had  just  bought  and  put  up  at  one  end  of 
the  great  hall  in  which  he  painted.  He  was  not  to 
blame  if  the  veiling  had  fallen  on  each  side  of  her  face, 
like  a  nun's  head-dress,  nor  if  her  eyes  had  grown 
shadowy  at  that  moment  by  an  accident  of  light  or  ex 
pression,  nor  yet  if  her  tender  lips  had  seemed  to  be 
saddened  by  a  passing  thought.  She  had  not  put  on 
the  veil  again,  and  he  had  not  meant  that  a  suggestion 
of  suffering  ecstatically  borne  should  dim  her  glad  girl 
hood  in  his  picture;  but  he  had  seen  the  vision  once, 
and  it  had  come  out  again  under  his  brush,  in  spite  of 
him,  as  if  it  were  the  necessary  truth  over  which  the 
outward  expression  was  moulded  like  a  lovely  mask, 
but  which  must  be  plain  in  her  face  to  every  one  who 
had  once  had  a  glimpse  of  it. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  5 

The  painter  contemplated  his  work  in  silence  from 
within  an  Olympian  cloud  of  cigarette  smoke  that 
almost  hid  him  from  the  others,  who  now  exchanged  a 
few  words  in  Italian,  which  he  only  half  understood. 
They  spoke  English  with  him,  as  they  would  have 
spoken  French  with  a  Frenchman,  and  probably  even 
German  with  a  German,  for  modern  Roman  society  has 
a  remarkable  gift  of  tongues  and  is  very  accomplished 
in  other  ways. 

'What  I  think  most  wonderful/  said  the  Marchesa 
del  Prato,  who  detested  her  husband's  pretty  niece,  'is 
that  he  has  not  made  a  Carlo  Dolce  picture  of  you,  my 
dear.  With  your  face,  it  would  have  been  so  easy, 
you  know ! ' 

Giovanni  Seven's  hands  moved  a  little  and  the 
scabbard  of  his  sabre  struck  one  of  his  spurs  with  a 
sharp  clink;  for  he  was  naturally  impatient  and  im 
pulsive,  as  any  one  could  see  from  his  face.  It  was 
lean  and  boldly  cut ;  his  cheeks  were  dark  from  ex 
posure  rather  than  by  nature,  there  were  reddish  lights 
in  his  short  brown  hair,  and  his  small  but  vigorous 
moustache  was  that  of  a  rather  fair  man  who  has  lived 
much  in  sun  and  wind  in  a  hot  climate.  His  nose  was 
Roman  and  energetic,  his  mouth  rather  straight  and 
hard;  yet  few  would  have  thought  his  face  remarkable 
but  for  the  eyes,  which  betrayed  his  nature  at  a  glance ; 
they  were  ardent  rather  than  merely  bold,  and  the 
warm,  reddish-brown  iris  was  shot  with  little  golden 
points  that  coruscated  in  the  rays  of  the  sun,  but  emitted 
a  fiery  light  of  their  own  when  his  temper  was  roused. 


6  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

If  his  look  had  been  less  frank  and  direct,  or  if  his 
other  features  had  suggested  any  bad  quality,  his  eyes 
would  probably  have  been  intolerably  disagreeable  to 
meet;  as  it  was,  they  warned  all  comers  that  their 
possessor  was  one  of  those  uncommon  and  dangerous 
men  who  go  to  the  utmost  extremes  when  they  believe 
themselves  in  the  right  and  are  constitutionally  inca 
pable  of  measuring  danger  or  considering  consequences 
when  they  are  roused.  Giovanni  Severi  was  about 
eight-and-twenty,  and  wore  the  handsome  uniform  of 
an  artillery  officer  on  the  Staff.  He  had  not  liked  the 
Marchesa's  remark,  and  the  impatient  little  clink  of  his 
scabbard  against  his  spur  only  preceded  his  answer  by 
a  second. 

'Happily  for  Angela/  he  said,  'we  are  not  in  the 
studio  of  a  caricaturist/ 

The  Marchesa,  who  could  be  near-sighted  on  occa 
sion,  put  up  her  tortoiseshell-mounted  eyeglass  and 
looked  at  him  aggressively;  but  as  he  returned  her 
gaze  with  steadiness,  she  soon  turned  away. 

'You  are  extremely  rude/  she  said  coldly. 

For  she  herself  made  clever  caricatures  in  water- 
colours,  and  she  knew  what  Giovanni  meant.  Angela's 
mother  had  been  a  very  devout  woman  and  had  died 
young,  but  had  incurred  the  hatred  of  the  Marchesa  by 
marrying  the  very  man  whom  the  latter  had  picked 
out  for  herself,  namely,  the  elder  of  two  brothers,  and 
the  Marchesa  had  reluctantly  consented  to  marry  the 
other,  who  had  a  much  less  high-sounding  title  and  a 
far  smaller  fortune.  She  had  revenged  herself  in  vari- 


THE   WHITE  SISTER  7 

ous  small  ways,  and  had  often  turned  her  brother-in- 
law's  wife  to  ridicule  by  representing  her  as  an  ascetic 
mediaeval  saint,  in  contorted  attitudes  of  ecstasy,  with 
sunken  cheeks  and  eyes  like  saucers  full  of  ink.  Like 
many  other  people,  Giovanni  had  seen  some  of  these 
drawings,  for  the  resentful  Marchesa  had  not  destroyed 
them  when  the  Princess  Chiaromonte  died;  but  no  one 
had  yet  been  unkind  enough  to  tell  Angela  of  their 
existence.  The  girl  did  not  like  her  aunt  by  marriage, 
it  was  true,  but  with  a  singularly  simple  and  happy 
disposition,  and  a  total  absence  of  vanity,  she  ap 
parently  possessed  her  mother's  almost  saintly  patience, 
and  she  bore  the  Marchesa's  treatment  with  a  cheerful 
submission  which  exasperated  the  elder  woman  much 
more  than  any  show  of  temper  could  have  done. 

Just  now,  seeing  that  trouble  of  some  sort  was  im 
minent,  she  made  a  diversion  by  coming  down  from  the 
low  movable  platform  on  which  her  chair  had  been 
placed  for  the  sitting,  and  she  spoke  to  the  artist  while 
she  studied  her  own  portrait.  Durand  was  a  very  thin 
man,  and  so  tall  that  Angela  had  to  look  very  high  to 
see  his  face  as  she  stood  beside  him. 

'I  could  never  be  as  good  as  the  picture  looks/  she 
said  in  English,  with  a  little  laugh,  'nor  so  dreadfully 
in  earnest !  But  it  is  very  nice  of  you  to  think  that  I 
might!' 

'You  will  never  be  anything  but  good,'  answered 
Filmore  Durand,  '  and  it's  not  necessarily  dreadful  to  be 
in  earnest  about  it.' 

'You  are  a  moralist,  I  see,'  observed  the  Marchesa, 


8  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

putting  on  a  sweet  smile  as  she  rose  and  came  forward, 
followed  by  Giovanni. 

'I  don't  know/  replied  the  painter.  'What  is  a 
moralist  ? ' 

'A  person  who  is  in  earnest  about  other  people's 
morals/  suggested  Angela  gaily. 

'Really!'  cried  the  Marchesa,  with  a  most  emphatic 
English  pronunciation  of  the  word.  'One  would  think 
that  you  had  been  brought  up  in  a  Freemasons'  lodge !' 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  Angela's  father  was  one  of 
the  very  last  survivors  of  the  'intransigent'  clericals, 
this  was  quite  the  most  cutting  speech  the  Marchesa 
could  think  of.  But  Filmore  Durand  failed  to  see  the 
point. 

'What  has  Freemasonry  to  do  with  morality ?'  he 
inquired  with  bland  surprise. 

'Nothing  at  all/  answered  the  Marchesa  smartly,  'for 
it  is  the  religion  of  the  devil/ 

'Dear  me !'  The  artist  smiled.  'What  strong  preju 
dices  you  have  in  Rome !' 

'Are  you  a  Freemason?'  the  noble  lady  asked,  with 
evident  nervousness;  and  she  glanced  from  his  face  to 
Angela,  and  then  at  the  door. 

'Well  —  no  —  I'm  not/  the  painter  admitted  with  a 
slight  drawl,  and  evidently  amused.  'But  then  I'm 
not  a  moralist  either,  though  I  suppose  I  might  be 
both  and  yet  go  on  painting  about  the  same/ 

'I  think  not/  said  the  Marchesa  so  stiffly  that  Gio 
vanni  almost  laughed  aloud.  'We  must  be  going/  she 
added,  suddenly  relaxing  to  graciousness  again.  'It 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  9 

has  been  such  a  privilege  to  see  you  day  after  day,  my 
dear  Mr.  Durand,  and  to  watch  you  working  in  your 
own  surroundings.  My  brother-in-law  will  come  to 
morrow.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will  be  much  pleased 
with  the  portrait.' 

Filmore  Durand  smiled  indifferently  but  with  polite 
ness  as  he  bowed  over  the  Marchesa's  hand.  He  did 
not  care  a  straw  whether  Angela's  father  liked  the 
picture  or  not,  being  in  love  with  it  himself,  and  much 
more  anxious  to  keep  it  than  to  be  paid  for  it. 

'When  shall  I  see  you  again?'  Giovanni  had  asked 
of  Angela,  almost  in  a  whisper,  while  the  Marchesa  was 
speaking. 

Instead  of  answering  she  shook  her  head,  for  she 
could  not  decide  at  once,  but  as  her  glance  met  his  a 
delicate  radiance  tinged  her  cheeks  for  a  moment,  as 
if  the  rosy  light  of  a  clear  dawn  were  reflected  in  her 
face.  The  young  soldier's  eyes  flashed  as  he  watched 
her ;  he  drew  his  breath  audibly,  and  then  bit  his  upper 
lip  as  if  to  check  the  sound  and  the  sensation  that  had 
caused  it.  Angela  heard  and  saw,  for  she  understood 
what  moved  him,  so  far  as  almost  childlike  simplicity 
can  have  intuition  of  what  most  touches  a  strong  man. 
She  was  less  like  the  portrait  now  than  a  moment 
earlier;  her  lips,  just  parting  in  a  little  half-longing, 
half-troubled  smile,  were  like  dark  rose  leaves  damp 
with  dew,  her  eyelids  drooped  at  the  corners  for  an 
instant,  and  the  translucent  little  nostrils  quivered  at 
the  mysterious  thrill  that  stirred  her  maiden  being. 

The  two  young  people  had  not  known  each  other 


10  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

quite  a  year,  for  she  had  never  seen  Severi  till  she  had 
left  the  convent  to  go  out  into  society  and  to  take  her 
place  at  her  widowed  father's  table  as  his  only  child; 
but  at  their  first  meeting  Giovanni  had  felt  that  of  all 
women  he  had  known,  none  but  she  had  ever  called 
his  nature  to  hers  with  the  longing  cry  of  the  natural 
mate.  At  first  she  was  quite  unconscious  of  her  power, 
and  for  a  long  time  he  looked  in  vain  for  the  slightest 
outward  sign  that  she  was  moved  when  she  saw  him 
making  his  way  to  her  in  a  crowded  drawing-room,  or 
coming  upon  her  suddenly  out  of  doors  when  she  was 
walking  in  the  villa  with  her  old  governess,  the  excellent 
Madame  Bernard,  or  riding  in  the  Campagna  with  her 
father.  Giovanni's  duties  were  light,  and  he  had 
plenty  of  time  to  spare,  and  his  pertinacity  in  finding 
her  would  have  been  compromising  if  he  had  been  less 
ingeniously  tactful.  It  was  by  no  means  easy  to  meet 
her  in  society  either,  for,  in  spite  of  recent  social  de 
velopments,  Prince  Chiaromonte  still  clung  to  the  anti 
quated  political  mythology  of  Blacks  and  Whites,  and 
strictly  avoided  the  families  he  persisted  in  calling 
'  Liberals/  on  the  ground  that  his  father  had  called 
them  so  in  1870,  when  he  was  a  small  boy.  It  was 
not  until  he  had  bored  himself  to  extinction  in  the 
conscientious  effort  to  take  the  girl  out,  that  he  ap 
pealed  to  his  sister-in-law  to  help  him,  though  he  knew 
that  neither  she  nor  his  brother  was  truly  clerical  at 
heart.  Even  then,  if  it  had  been  clear  to  him  that 
Giovanni  Severi  had  made  up  his  mind  to  marry  Angela 
if  he  married  at  all,  the  Prince  would  have  forced  him- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  ll 

self  to  bear  agonies  of  boredom  night  after  night,  rather 
than  entrust  his  daughter  to  the  Marchesa;  but  such 
an  idea  had  never  entered  his  head,  and  he  would  have 
scouted  the  suggestion  that  Angela  would  ever  dare  to 
encourage  a  young  man  of  whom  he  had  not  formally 
approved;  and  while  she  was  meeting  Giovanni  almost 
daily,  and  dancing  with  him  almost  every  evening,  her 
father  was  slowly  negotiating  an  appropriate  marriage 
for  her  with  the  eldest  son  of  certain  friends  who  were 
almost  as  clerical  and  intransigent  as  himself.  The 
young  man  was  a  limp  degenerate,  with  a  pale  face,  a 
weak  mouth,  and  an  inherited  form  of  debility  which 
made  him  fall  asleep  wherever  he  was,  if  nothing  especial 
happened  to  keep  his  eyes  open;  he  not  only  always 
slept  from  ten  at  night  till  nine  the  next  morning  with 
the  regularity  of  an  idiot,  but  he  went  to  sleep  wher 
ever  he  sat  down,  in  church,  at  dinner,  and  even  when 
he  was  driving.  Neither  his  own  parents  nor  Prince 
Chiaromonte  looked  upon  this  as  a  serious  drawback 
in  the  matter  of  marriage.  A  man  who  slept  all  day 
and  all  night  was  a  man  out  of  mischief,  not  likely  to 
grumble  nor  to  make  love  to  his  neighbour's  wife;  he 
would  therefore  be  a  model  husband.  When  he  fell 
asleep  in  the  drawing-room  in  summer,  his  consort 
would  sit  beside  him  and  brush  away  the  flies;  in 
winter  she  would  be  careful  to  cover  him  up  lest  he 
should  catch  cold;  at  mass  she  could  prick  him  with 
a  hat-pin  to  keep  him  awake ;  as  for  the  rest,  she  would 
bear  one  of  the  oldest  names  in  Europe,  her  husband 
would  be  a  strictly  religious  and  moral  person,  and  she 


12  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

would  be  very  rich.  What  more  could  any  woman 
ask?  Evidently  nothing,  and  Prince  Chiaromonte 
therefore  continued  to  negotiate  the  marriage  in  the 
old-fashioned  manner,  without  the  least  intention  of 
speaking  about  it  to  Angela  till  everything  was  alto 
gether  settled  between  the  family  lawyers,  and  the 
wedding  could  take  place  in  six  weeks.  It  was  not 
the  business  of  young  people  to  fathom  the  intentions 
of  their  all-wise  parents,  and  meanwhile  Angela  was 
free  to  go  to  parties  with  her  aunt,  and  her  intended 
husband  was  at  liberty  to  sleep  as  much  as  he  liked. 
The  negotiations  would  probably  occupy  another  two 
or  three  months,  for  the  family  lawyers  had  disagreed 
as  to  the  number  of  times  that  Angela  should  be  allowed 
to  take  the  carriage  out  every  day,  and  this  had  to  be 
stipulated  in  the  marriage  contract,  besides  the  num 
ber  of  dishes  there  were  to  be  at  luncheon  and  dinner 
and  the  question  whether,  if  Angela  took  coffee  after 
her  meals,  it  should  be  charged  to  her  husband,  who 
took  none,  or  against  the  income  arising  from  her 
dowry.  The  family  lawyers  were  both  very  old  men 
and  understood  these  difficult  matters  thoroughly,  but 
neither  would  have  felt  that  he  was  doing  his  duty  to 
his  client  if  he  had  not  quarrelled  with  the  other  over 
each  point.  From  week  to  week  each  reported  prog 
ress  to  his  employer,  and  on  the  whole  the  two  fathers 
felt  that  matters  were  going  on  well,  without  any 
undue  delay. 

But  the  Fates  frowned  grimly  on  the  marriage  and 
on  all  things  connected  with  it,  for  on  the  very  morn- 


THE   WHITE  SISTER  13 

ing  during  which  Filmore  Durand  finished  Angela's 
portrait,  and  before  she  had  left  his  studio  in  the  Pa 
lazzo  Borghese,  something  happened  which  not  only 
put  a  stop  to  the  leisurely  labours  of  the  two  lawyers, 
but  which  profoundly  changed  Angela's  existence,  and 
was  the  cause  of  her  having  a  story  quite  different 
from  that  of  a  good  many  young  girls  who  are  in  love 
with  one  man  but  are  urged  by  their  parents  to  marry 
another.  The  interest  of  this  tale,  if  it  has  any,  lies  in 
no  such  simple  conflict  of  forces  as  that,  and  it  is  enough 
to  know  that  while  her  father  had  been  busy  over  her 
marriage,  Angela  Chiaromonte  had  fallen  in  love  with 
Giovanni  Severi,  and  had,  indeed,  as  much  as  promised 
to  marry  him;  and  that  a  good  many  people,  includ 
ing  the  Marchesa  del  Prato,  already  suspected  this, 
though  they  had  not  communicated  their  suspicions  to 
the  girl's  father,  partly  because  he  was  not  liked,  and 
partly  because  he  hardly  ever  showed  himself  in  the 
world.  The  situation  is  thus  clearly  explained,  so  far 
as  it  was  known  to  the  persons  concerned  at  the  mo 
ment  when  the  Great  Unforeseen  flashed  from  its 
hiding-place  and  hurled  itself  into  their  midst. 

As  Filmore  Durand  went  with  the  Marchesa  towards 
the  entrance  hall,  followed  by  the  young  people,  he 
called  his  man  to  open  the  outer  door,  but  almost  at 
the  same  moment  he  heard  his  voice  at  the  telephone; 
the  servant  was  a  Swiss  who  spoke  German,  English, 
and  Italian,  and  had  followed  the  artist  for  many 
years.  He  was  evidently  answering  an  inquiry  about 
the  Marchesa  just  as  he  heard  her  step. 


14  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'The  lady  is  here/  he  said.  'She  is  coming  to  the 
telephone  herself.' 

He  looked  round  as  the  four  approached,  for  the 
instrument  was  placed  on  the  right  side  of  the  large 
door  that  opened  upon  the  landing. 

'Some  one  for  your  ladyship/  he  said  in  English, 
holding  out  the  receiver  to  the  Marchesa. 

She  took  it  and  put  it  to  her  ear,  repeating  the  usual 
Italian  formula. 

'  Ready  —  with  whom  am  I  speaking  ?  Yes.  I  am 
the  Marchesa  del  Prato,  she  herself.  What  is  it?' 

There  was  a  pause  while  she  listened,  and  then  Angela 
saw  her  face  change  suddenly. 

'Dead?'  she  shrieked  into  the  telephone.  'Half-an- 
hour  ago?' 

She  still  held  the  receiver  to  her  ear,  but  she  was 
stretching  out  her  left  hand  as  if  she  needed  support. 
Durand  took  her  by  the  arm  and  elbow,  prepared  to 
hold  her  up  if  she  showed  signs  of  fainting.  Angela 
was  already  on  her  other  side. 

'Who  is  dead?'  the  girl  asked  quietly  enough,  but 
with  evident  anxiety. 

'Your  father/  answered  the  Marchesa,  with  such 
sudden  and  brutal  directness  that  Giovanni  started  for 
ward,  and  Durand  stared  in  surprise,  for  he  knew 
enough  Italian  to  understand  as  much  as  that. 

Angela  made  two  steps  backwards,  slowly  and  me 
chanically,  like  a  blind  man  who  has  unexpectedly  run 
against  a  wall;  like  the  blind,  too,  she  held  out  her 
hands  before  her,  as  if  to  assure  herself  that  she  was 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  15 

getting  out  of  reach  of  the  obstacle.  Her  face  had 
turned  white  and  her  eyes  were  half  closed. 

The  Marchesa  no  longer  seemed  to  be  in  need  of 
support  and  watched  her. 

1  My  poor  child ! '  she  cried,  in  a  tone  of  conven 
tional  sympathy.  'I  should  have  broken  the  news  to 
you  gradually ' 

1  You  should  indeed ! '  answered  Giovanni  with  stern 
emphasis. 

He  was  already  leading  Angela  to  one  of  the  nearest 
of  the  high-backed  chairs  that  stood  ranged  against 
the  dark-green  wall  of  the  hall.  She  sat  down,  steady 
ing  herself  by  his  arm. 

'Run  over  by  a  motor  car  almost  at  his  own  door/ 
said  the  Marchesa,  in  a  lower  tone  and  in  English,  as 
she  turned  slightly  towards  Durand.  '  Killed  on  the 
spot!  It  is  too  awful!  My  poor  brother-in-law!' 

'Get  some  brandy  and  some  cold  water/  said  the 
artist  to  his  man,  watching  the  girl's  pale  face  and 
twitching  hands. 

'Yes/  said  Giovanni,  who  was  bending  over  her 
anxiously.  'Bring  something  quickly!  She  is  going 
to  faint.' 

But  Angela  was  not  fainting,  nor  even  half-uncon 
scious.  She  had  felt  as  if  something  hard  had  struck 
her  between  the  eyes,  without  quite  stunning  her. 
She  attempted  to  get  up,  but  realised  her  weakness 
and  waited  a  moment  before  trying  again.  Then  she 
rose  to  her  feet  with  an  effort  and  stood  straight  and 
rigid  before  her  aunt,  her  eyes  quite  open  now. 


16  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

1  CorneV  she  said,  almost  imperiously,  and  in  a 
voice  unlike  her  own. 

In  a  moment  they  were  gone,  and  the  artist  was 
standing  before  the  portrait  he  had  finished,  looking 
into  its  eyes  as  if  it  were  alive.  He  had  been  deeply 
shocked  by  what  had  just  happened,  and  was  sincerely 
-nrry  for  Angela,  though  he  had  not  the  least  idea 
whether  she  had  loved  her  father  or  not,  but  his  face 
was  calm  and  thoughtful  again,  now  that  she  was 
gone,  and  expressed  a  quiet  satisfaction  which  had  not 
been  there  before.  For  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
picture  was  a  precious  reality,  and  that  the  young  girl 
who  had  sat  for  it  was  only  nature's  copy,  and  not 
perfect  at  that;  and  perhaps  the  reality  would  not  be 
taken  from  him,  now,  since  Prince  Chiaromonte  had 
come  to  an  untimely  end;  and  the  prospect  of  keeping 
the  canvas  was  exceedingly  pleasing  to  Filmore  Durand. 
He  had  never  painted  anything  that  had  disappointed 
him  less,  or  that  he  was  less  willing  to  part  with,  and 
during  the  last  day  or  two  he  had  even  thought  of 
making  a  replica  of  it  for  the  Prince  in  order  to  keep 
the  original,  for  no  copy,  though  it  were  made  by  him 
self  most  conscientiously,  could  ever  be  quite  so  good. 
But  now  that  the  Prince  was  dead,  it  was  possible  that 
the  heirs,  if  there  were  any  besides  Angela,  would  be 
glad  to  be  excused  from  paying  a  large  sum  for  a  pic 
ture  they  did  not  want.  He  was  sure  from  the  young 
girl's  manner  that  she  would  no  more  care  to  possess 
a  portrait  of  herself  than  a  coloured  postcard  of  the 
Colosseum  or  a  plaster-cast  of  one  of  Canova's  dancing- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  17 

girls.  This  was  not  flattering  to  the  artist,  it  was  true, 
but  in  the  present  case  he  would  rather  keep  his  own 
painting  than  have  it  appreciated  ever  so  highly  by 
any  one  else. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  stopped  before  the  closed 
gateway  of  the  Palazzo  Chiaromonte  and  pushed  the 
little  postern  that  stood  ajar.  The  big  porter  was 
within,  standing  dejectedly  before  the  door  of  his  lodge, 
and  already  dressed  in  the  deep  mourning  which  is  kept 
in  readiness  in  all  the  great  Roman  houses.  The 
painter  asked  in  broken  Italian  if  the  bad  news  was 
true,  and  the  man  nodded  gravely,  pointing  to  the 
gates.  They  would  not  be  shut  unless  the  master 
were  dead.  Durand  asked  after  Donna  Angela,  but 
the  porter  was  not  communicative.  She  had  come  in 
with  her  aunt  and  both  were  upstairs;  he  suspected 
the  painter  of  being  a  foreign  newspaper  correspondent 
and  would  say  nothing  more. 

The  American  thanked  him  and  went  away;  after 
all,  he  had  come  to  make  sure  that  the  Prince  was 
really  dead,  and  he  was  conscious  that  his  wish  to 
keep  the  portrait  was  the  only  motive  of  his  inquiry. 

He  strolled  away  through  the  crowded  streets,  blow 
ing  such  clouds  of  cigarette  smoke  about  him  that 
people  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  It  was  almost  sun 
set,  in  February,  and  it  was  just  before  Lent.  Rome 
is  at  her  gayest  then,  though  the  old  Carnival  is  as 
dead  and  gone  as  Pio  Nono,  Garibaldi,  the  French 
military  occupation,  the  hatred  of  the  Jesuits,  and  all 
that  made  the  revival  of  Italy  in  the  nineteenth  century 


18  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

the  most  thrilling  romance  that  ever  roused  Italian 
passion  and  stirred  the  world's  sympathy.  Durand  was 
not  old  enough  to  remember  those  times,  and  he  had 
never  been  in  Rome  at  all  till  he  was  nearly  thirty 
years  of  age  and  on  the  first  wave  of  his  high  success; 
but  he  had  read  about  the  past,  and  to  his  unspoiled 
sinht  and  vivid  imagination  Rome  was  still  romantic 
and  the  greatest  city  in  the  world,  ancient  or  modern; 
and  somehow  when  he  thought  of  his  picture  and  of 
Angela's  face,  and  remembered  the  scene  at  the  tele 
phone,  he  felt  that  he  was  himself  just  within  the  sphere 
of  some  mysterious  and  tragic  action  which  he  could 
not  yet  understand,  but  which  might  possibly  affect 
his  own  life. 

'This  is  a  serio-comic  world/  he  said  to  himself  as 
he  slowly  made  his  way  down  the  Corso,  watching  the 
faces  of  the  people  he  passed,  because  he  never  passed 
a  face  in  the  street  without  glancing  at  it,  stopping 
now  and  then  to  look  into  a  shop  window  where  there 
was  nothing  to  see  that  he  had  not  seen  a  thousand 
times  elsewhere,  smoking  cigarettes  without  number, 
thinking  of  Angela's  portrait,  and  mechanically  repeat 
ing  his  little  epigram  over  and  over  again,  to  a  sort  of 
tune  in  his  head,  with  variations  and  transpositions 
that  meant  nothing  at  all. 

'This  is  a  serio-comic  world.  This  is  a  comico-serious 
world.  This  world  is  a  serious  comico-serial.  This  is  a 
worldly-serious  comedy/  And  so  forth,  and  so  on; 
and  a  number  of  more  or  less  good-looking  women  of 
the  serio-comic  world,  whose  portraits  he  had  painted, 


THE   WHITE  SISTER  19 

and  several  more  or  less  distinguished  men  who  had 
sat  to  him,  passed  the  man  of  genius  and  greeted  him 
as  if  they  were  rather  pleased  to  show  that  they  knew 
him;  but  they  would  have  been  shocked  if  they  could 
have  heard  the  silly  words  the  great  painter  was  me 
chanically  repeating  to  himself  as  he  idled  along  the 
pavement,  musing  on  the  picture  he  hoped  to  keep, 
and  already  regarded  as  his  masterpiece  and  chief 
treasure. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  excellent  Madame  Bernard  had  been  Angela's 
governess  before  the  child  had  been  sent  to  the  convent 
on  the  TrinitS,  dei  Monti,  and  whenever  she  was  at 
home  for  the  holidays,  and  also  during  the  brief  in 
terval  between  her  leaving  school  and  going  into  so 
ciety  ;  and  after  that,  during  the  winter  which  preceded 
Prince  Chiaromonte's  death,  she  had  accompanied  the 
motherless  girl  to  concerts  and  had  walked  with  her 
almost  daily  in  the  mornings.  She  was  one  of  those 
thoroughly  trustworthy,  sound-minded,  well-educated 
Frenchwomen  of  the  middle  class  of  whom  many  are 
to  be  found  in  the  provinces,  though  the  type  is  rare 
in  Paris ;  nearly  fifty  years  of  age,  she  had  lived  twenty 
years  in  Rome,  always  occupying  the  same  little  apart 
ment  in  a  respectable  street  of  Trastevere,  where  she 
had  a  spare  room  which  she  was  glad  to  let  to  any 
French  or  English  lady  of  small  means  who  came  to 
Rome  for  a  few  months  in  the  winter  and  spring. 

Angela  sent  her  maid  for  Madame  Bernard  on  the 
day  of  the  catastrophe,  since  her  aunt  neither  offered 
to  take  her  in  at  once  nor  seemed  inclined  to  suggest 
any  arrangement  for  the  future.  The  Marchesa  did, 
indeed,  take  charge  of  everything  in  the  Palazzo  Chia- 
romonte  within  an  hour  of  her  brother-in-law's  death; 
she  locked  the  drawers  of  his  private  desk  herself,  sent 

20 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  21 

for  the  notary  and  had  the  customary  seals  placed  on 
the  doors  of  the  inner  apartments  'in  the  name  of  the 
heirs';  she  spoke  with  the  undertaker  and  made  every 
arrangement  for  the  customary  lying  in  state  of  the 
body  during  the  following  night  and  day;  saw  to  the 
erection  of  the  temporary  altar  at  which  masses  for 
the  dead  would  be  celebrated  almost  without  inter 
ruption  from  midnight  to  noon  by  sixteen  priests  in 
succession;  gave  full  instructions  to  the  effect  that 
the  men-servants  should  take  their  turn  of  duty  in 
regular  watches,  day  and  night,  until  the  funeral;  and 
finally  left  the  palace,  after  showing  herself  to  be  an 
exceedingly  practical  woman. 

When  she  went  away,  she  was  holding  her  handker 
chief  to  her  eyes  with  both  hands  and  she  forgot  her 
parasol;  but  she  remembered  it  as  she  was  just  going 
out  by  the  postern,  her  carriage  being  outside  because 
the  gates  were  shut,  and  she  sent  her  footman  back 
for  it  and  for  the  little  morocco  bag  in  which  she  carried 
her  handkerchief  and  card-case.  It  was  a  small  matter, 
but  the  porter,  the  footman,  and  the  butler  upstairs 
all  remembered  it  afterwards,  and  the  footman  himself, 
while  coming  down,  took  the  trouble  to  look  into  the 
little  wallet,  and  saw  that  the  card-case  was  there,  but 
nothing  else;  for  the  Marchesa  sometimes  carried  cer 
tain  little  cigarettes  in  it,  which  the  man  had  found 
particularly  good.  But  to-day  there  was  not  even  one. 

Madame  Bernard  arrived  in  tears,  for  she  was  a 
warm-hearted  woman,  and  was  overcome  with  sym 
pathy  for  the  lonely  girl.  She  found  Angela  sitting  by 


22  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

a  small  fire  in  her  own  little  morning-room  on  the  upper 
floor.  A  tray  with  something  to  eat  had  been  set  be 
side  her,  she  knew  not  by  whom,  but  she  had  not  tasted 
anything.  Her  eyes  were  dry,  but  her  hands  were 
burning  and  when  she  was  conscious  of  feeling  any 
thing  she  knew  that  her  head  ached.  She  had  forgotten 
that  she  had  sent  for  the  governess,  and  looked  at  her 
with  a  vaguely  wondering  expression  as  if  she  took  the 
kindly  Frenchwoman  in  black  for  a  new  shadow  in  her 
dream. 

But  presently  mechanical  consciousness  returned, 
though  without  much  definite  sensation,  and  she  let 
Madame  Bernard  have  her  way  in  everything,  not 
making  the  slightest  resistance  or  offering  the  smallest 
suggestion;  she  even  submitted  to  being  fed  like  a 
little  child,  with  small  mouthfuls  of  things  that  had  no 
taste  whatever  for  her. 

By  and  by  there  was  a  dressmaker  in  the  room,  with 
an  assistant,  and  servants  brought  a  number  of  big 
bandboxes  with  lids  covered  with  black  oilcloth;  and 
Angela's  maid  was  there,  too,  and  they  tried  one  thing 
after  another  on  her,  ready-made  garments  for  the 
first  hours  of  mourning.  Then  they  were  gone,  and 
she  was  dressed  in  black,  and  the  room  was  filled  with 
the  unmistakable  odour  of  black  crape,  which  is  not  like 
anything  else  in  the  world. 

Again  time  passed,  and  she  was  kneeling  at  a  fald 
stool  in  the  great  hall  downstairs;  but  a  dark  screen 
had  been  placed  so  that  she  could  not  be  seen  by  any 
one  who  came  in  to  kneel  at  the  rail  that  divided  the 


THE  WHITE   SISTER  23 

upper  part  of  the  hall  from  the  lower;  and  she  saw 
nothing  herself  —  nothing  but  a  Knight  of  Malta,  in  his 
black  cloak  with  the  great  white  Maltese  cross  on  his 
shoulder,  lying  asleep  on  his  back;  and  on  each  side 
of  him  three  enormous  wax  torches  were  burning  in 
silver  candlesticks  taller  than  a  tall  man. 

Quite  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  five  paces  from  the 
Knight's  motionless  head,  three  priests  in  black  and 
silver  vestments  were  kneeling  before  a  black  altar, 
reciting  the  Penitential  Psalms  in  a  quiet,  monotonous 
voice,  verse  and  verse,  the  one  in  the  middle  leading; 
and  Angela  automatically  joined  the  two  assistants  in 
responding,  but  so  low  that  they  did  not  hear  her. 

The  Knight  bore  a  resemblance  to  her  father,  that 
was  all.  Perhaps  it  was  only  a  waxen  image  she  saw, 
or  a  wraith  in  that  long  dream  of  hers,  of  which  she 
could  not  quite  remember  the  beginning.  She  knew 
that  she  was  nothing  to  the  image,  and  that  it  was 
nothing  to  her.  While  her  lips  repeated  the  grand 
dirge  of  the  King-poet  in  Saint  Jerome's  noble  old 
Latin  words,  her  thoughts  followed  broken  threads, 
each  cut  short  by  a  question  that  lacks  an  answer,  by 
the  riddle  man  has  asked  of  the  sky  and  the  sea  and 
the  earth  since  the  beginning :  What  does  it  mean  ? 

What  could  it  mean?  The  senseless  facts  were 
there,  plain  enough.  That  morning  she  had  seen  her 
father,  she  had  kissed  his  hand  in  the  old-fashioned 
way,  and  he  had  kissed  her  forehead,  and  they  had 
exchanged  a  few  words,  as  usual.  She  remembered 
that  for  the  thousandth  time  she  had  wished  that  his 


24  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

voice  would  soften  a  little  and  that  he  would  put  his 
anus  round  her  and  draw  her  closer  to  him.  But  he 
had  been  just  as  always,  for  he  was  bound  and  stiffened 
in  the  unwieldy  armour  of  his  conventional  righteous 
ness.  Angela  had  read  of  the  Puritans  in  history,  and 
an  Englishman  might  smile  at  the  thought  that  she 
could  not  fancy  the  sternest  of  them  as  more  thoroughly 
puritanical  than  her  father,  who  had  been  brought  up 
by  priests  from  his  childhood.  But  such  as  he  was,  he 
had  been  her  father  that  morning.  The  motionless 
figure  of  the  Knight  of  Malta  on  the  black  velvet  pall 
was  not  he,  nor  a  likeness  of  him,  nor  anything  human 
at  all.  It  was  the  outward  visible  presence  of  death, 
it  was  a  dumb  thing  that  knew  the  answer  to  the  riddle 
but  could  not  tell  it ;  in  a  way,  it  was  the  riddle  itself. 

While  her  half-stunned  intelligence  stumbled  among 
chasms  of  thought  that  have  swallowed  up  transcen 
dent  genius,  her  lips  unconsciously  said  the  Penitential 
Psalms  after  the  priests  at  the  altar.  At  the  convent 
she  had  been  a  little  vain  of  knowing  them  by  heart 
better  than  the  nuns  themselves,  for  she  had  a  good 
memory,  and  she  had  often  been  rebuked  for  taking 
pride  in  her  gift.  It  was  not  her  fault  if  the  noble 
poetry  meant  nothing  to  her  at  the  most  solemn  hour 
of  her  life,  though  its  deep  human  note  had  appealed 
profoundly  to  her  the  last  time  she  had  repeated  the 
words.  Nothing  meant  anything  now,  in  the  face  of 
the  unanswered  riddle;  nothing  but  the  answer  could 
have  any  meaning. 

The  great  apostle  of  modern  thought  asked  three 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  25 

questions:  What  can  I  know?  As  a  reasoning  being 
what  is  it  my  duty  to  do  in  life  ?  What  may  I  dare 
to  hope  hereafter  ?  Angela  had  never  even  heard  of 
Kant;  she  only  asked  what  it  all  meant;  and  the 
Knight  of  Malta  was  silent  under  the  steady  yellow 
light  of  the  six  wax  torches.  Perhaps  the  white  cross 
on  his  cloak  was  the  answer,  but  the  emblem  was  too 
far  from  words  for  mere  humanity  to  understand  it. 
She  wished  they  would  take  him  away,  for  he  was  not 
her  father,  and  she  would  be  far  better  able  to  pray 
alone  in  her  own  room  than  in  the  stately  presence  of 
that  one  master  whom  all  living  things  fear,  man  and 
bird  and  beast,  and  whatsoever  has  life  in  the  sea. 

To  pray,  yes;  but  for  what?  Rebellious  against 
outward  things,  the  girl's  prime  intuition  told  her  that 
her  father  was  quite  separated  from  his  mortal  symbol 
now,  having  suddenly  left  that  which  could  change  to 
become  a  part  of  the  unknown  truth,  which  must  be 
unchangeable  if  it  is  true;  invisible,  without  form  or 
dimension,  ' being'  not  ' living/  ' conscious'  not  ' aware/ 
' knowing'  not  ' seeing/  'eternal'  not  'immortal.'  That 
might  be  the  answer,  but  it  meant  too  much  for  a  girl 
to  grasp,  and  explained  too  little  to  be  comforting. 
The  threads  of  thought  broke  short  off  again,  and 
Angela's  lips  went  on  making  words,  while  she  gazed 
unwinking  on  the  Knight's  expressionless  face. 

Suddenly  her  mind  awoke  again  in  a  sort  of  horror 
of  darkness,  and  her  lips  ceased  from  moving  for  a 
while,  for  she  was  terrified. 

Was  there   anything   beyond?    Was  it   really   God 


26  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

who  had  taken  her  father  from  her  in  an  instant,  or 
was  it  a  blind  force  that  had  killed  him,  striking  in  the 
dark?  If  that  was  the  answer,  what  was  there  left? 

The  sensitive  girl  shivered.  Perhaps  no  bodily  dan 
ger  could  have  sent  that  chill  through  her.  It  began 
in  her  head  and  crept  quickly  to  her  hands  and  then 
to  her  feet,  for  it  was  not  a  fear  of  death  that  came 
upon  her,  nor  of  anything  outward.  To  lose  life  was 
nothing,  if  there  was  heaven  beyond;  pain,  torture, 
martyrdom  would  be  nothing  if  God  the  good  was 
standing  on  the  other  side.  All  life  was  but  one  long 
opportunity  for  sinning,  and  to  lose  it  while  in  grace 
was  to  be  safe  for  ever;  so  much  she  had  been  taught 
and  until  now  she  had  believed  it.  But  what  loss 
could  be  compared  with  losing  God?  There  were  un 
believers  in  the  world,  of  course,  but  she  could  not 
understand  how  they  could  still  live  on,  and  laugh, 
and  seek  pleasure  and  feel  it  keenly.  What  had  they 
to  fill  the  void  of  their  tremendous  loss?  Surely,  not 
to  believe  was  not  to  hope,  to  be  for  ever  without  hope 
was  the  punishment  of  the  damned,  and  to  live  hopeless 
in  the  world  was  to  suffer  the  pains  of  hell  on  earth. 

She  felt  them  now.  'The  pains  of  hell  gat  hold  upon 
me,'  she  moaned,  heedless  of  the  priest's  recitation. 
Darkness  rose  like  a  flood-tide  all  round  her  and  she 
shut  her  eyes  to  keep  it  out,  for  her  will  fought  for 
hope,  as  her  body  would  have  struggled  against  drown 
ing.  It  was  no  longer  a  mere  question  that  assailed 
her,  but  imminent  destruction  itself. 

It  passed  away  this  first  time  and  she  grew  calm 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  27 

again.  Not  to  believe  was  sin,  and  against  all  sin 
prayer  and  steadfast  will  must  be  availing.  The  will, 
she  had;  she  could  remember  many  prayers,  too,  and 
say  them  earnestly,  and  was  thankful  for  her  memory 
which  held  orisons  in  readiness  for  every  circumstance 
of  daily  duty  or  spiritual  life.  From  her  childhood  she 
had  found  a  gentle  delight  in  the  Church's  liturgies  and 
hymns,  and  now,  as  she  prayed  with  the  forms  of  lan 
guage  she  had  always  loved,  habit  brought  back  belief 
to  lighten  her  darkness.  She  still  felt  the  bitter  cold 
of  the  outer  night  that  was  very  near  her;  but  she 
kept  it  off  now,  and  warmed  her  poor  little  soul  in  the  fer 
vour  of  her  praying  till  she  felt  that  she  was  coming  again 
to  life  and  hope. 

She  opened  her  eyes  at  last  and  saw  that  nothing 
was  changed.  The  Knight  of  Malta  slept  on,  as  he  was 
to  sleep  for  ever;  the  priests  knelt  motionless  before 
the  black  altar;  their  quiet,  monotonous  voices  went 
on  with  the  Penitential  Psalms  as  priests  had  said 
them  for  at  least  fifteen  centuries.  Angela  listened  till 
she  caught  the  words  and  then  began  to  respond  again, 
and  once  more  her  thoughts  followed  broken  threads. 

Surely,  by  all  she  had  been  taught,  her  father  was 
in  heaven  already.  It  was  not  possible  that  any  hu 
man  being  should  obey  every  written  and  unwritten 
ordinance  of  his  religion  more  strictly  than  he  had 
done  ever  since  she  could  remember  him.  He  had  been 
severe,  almost  to  cruelty,  but  he  had  been  quite  as  un 
yieldingly  austere  in  dealing  with  himself.  He  had 
fasted  rigidly,  not  only  when  fasts  were  ordered,  but  of 


28  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

his  free  will  when  others  only  abstained,  he  had  never 
begun  a  day  without  hearing  mass  nor  a  week  without 
confession  and  communion,  he  had  retired  into  spiritual 
retreat  in  Lent,  he  had  prayed  early  and  late;  in  his 
dealings  with  men,  he  had  not  done  to  others  what  he 
would  not  have  had  them  do  to  him,  he  had  not  said 
of  his  neighbour  what  he  would  not  have  said  of  him 
self,  he  had  wronged  no  man,  he  had  given  much  to 
charity  and  more  to  the  ' imprisoned*  head  of  the 
Church.  He  had  so  lived  that  no  confessor  could 
justly  find  fault  with  him,  and  he  had  never  failed  to 
pray  for  those  in  whom  he  discerned  any  shortcoming. 

Who  would  condemn  such  a  just  person?  Not  God, 
surely.  Therefore  when  his  life  had  ended  so  suddenly 
that  morning,  his  soul  had  been  taken  directly  to  heaven. 
If  such  righteousness  as  his  had  venial  sins  to  expiate, 
what  hope  was  there  left  for  men  of  ordinary  earthly 
passions  and  failings? 

It  was  a  consolation  to  think  of  that,  Angela  told 
herself,  now  that  the  tide  of  darkness  had  ebbed  back 
to  the  depth  of  terror  whence  it  had  risen;  and  when 
at  last  the  long  dream  slowly  dissolved  before  return 
ing  reality  the  lonely  girl's  eyes  overflowed  with  natural 
tears  at  the  thought  that  her  father's  motionless  lips 
would  never  move  again,  even  to  reprove  her,  and  that 
she  was  looking  for  the  last  time  on  all  that  earth  still 
held  of  him  who  had  given  her  life. 


CHAPTER  III 

THREE  days  later  Angela  sat  alone  in  her  morning- 
room,  reading  a  letter  from  Giovanni  Severi.  All  was 
over  now  —  the  lying  in  state,  the  funeral  at  the  small 
parish  church,  the  interment  in  the  cemetery  of  San 
Lorenzo,  where  the  late  Prince  had  built  a  temporary 
tomb  for  himself  and  his  family,  under  protest,  because 
modern  municipal  regulations  would  not  allow  even  such 
a  personage  as  he  to  be  buried  within  the  walls,  in  his 
own  family  vault,  at  Santa  Maria  del  Popolo.  But  he 
had  been  confident  that  even  if  he  did  not  live  to  see  the 
return  of  the  Pope's  temporal  power,  his  remains  would 
soon  be  solemnly  transferred  to  the  city,  to  rest  with 
those  of  his  fathers;  and  he  had  looked  forward  to  his 
resurrection  from  a  sepulchre  better  suited  to  his  earthly 
rank  and  spiritual  worth  than  a  brick  vault  in  a  public 
cemetery,  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  thrice-anathe 
matised  crematorium,  and  of  the  unhallowed  burial- 
ground  set  aside  for  Freemasons,  anarchists,  Protestants, 
and  Jews.  But  no  man  can  be  blamed  fairly  for  wish 
ing  to  lie  beside  his  forefathers,  and  if  Prince  Chiaro- 
monte  had  failed  to  see  that  the  destiny  of  Italy  had  out- 
measured  the  worldly  supremacy  of  the  Vatican  in  the 
modern  parallelogram  of  forces,  that  had  certainly  been 
a  fault  of  judgment  rather  than  of  intention.  He  had 
never  wavered  in  his  fidelity  to  his  ideal,  nor  had  he  ever 

29 


30  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

voluntarily  submitted  to  any  law  imposed  by  the 
'usurper.' 

1  That  excellent  Chiaromonte  is  so  extremely  clerical,' 
Pope  Leo  the  Thirteenth  had  once  observed  to  his  sec 
retary  with  his  quiet  smile. 

But  Angela  missed  her  father  constantly,  not  under 
standing  that  he  had  systematically  forced  her  to  look 
to  him  as  the  judge  and  master  of  her  existence,  and  she 
wondered  a  little  why  she  almost  longed  for  his  grave 
nod,  and  his  stern  frown  of  disapproval,  and  even  for  the 
daily  and  hourly  reproof  under  which  she  had  so  often 
chafed.  Madame  Bernard  had  been  installed  in  the 
palace  since  the  day  of  the  fatal  accident,  and  she  was 
kindness  personified,  full  of  consideration  and  fore 
thought;  yet  the  girl  was  very  lonely  and  miserable 
from  morning  till  night,  and  when  she  slept  she  dreamed 
of  the  dead  Knight  of  Malta's  face,  of  the  yellow  light 
of  the  wax  torches,  and  the  voices  of  the  priests. 

On  the  fourth  day  a  letter  came  from  Giovanni, 
the  first  she  had  ever  received  from  him.  She  did 
not  even  know  his  handwriting,  and  she  looked  at  the 
signature  before  reading  the  note  to  see  who  had  written 
to  her  so  soon.  When  she  understood  that  it  was  he,  a 
flood  of  sunshine  broke  upon  her  gloom.  The  bright 
morning  sun  had  indeed  been  shining  through  the  win 
dow  for  an  hour,  but  she  had  not  known  it  till  then. 

It  was  not  a  love-letter.  He  used  those  grammatically 
illogical  but  superfinely  courteous  forms  which  make 
high  Italian  a  mystery  to  strangers  who  pick  up  a  few 
hundred  words  for  daily  use  and  dream  that  they  under- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  31 

stand  the  language.  He  used  the  first  person  for  him 
self,  but  spoke  of  her  in  the  third  singular;  he  began 
with:  'Most  gentle  Donna  Angela/  and  he  signed  his  full 
name  at  the  end  of  a  formal  phrase  setting  forth  his  pro 
foundly  respectful  homage.  She  would  have  been  much 
surprised  and  perhaps  offended  if  he  had  expressed  him 
self  in  any  more  familiar  way.  Brought  up  as  she  had 
been  under  the  most  old-fashioned  code  in  Europe  when 
at  home,  and  under  the  frigid  rule  of  the  Ladies  of  the 
Sacred  Heart  when  she  was  at  school,  any  familiarity  of 
language  seemed  to  her  an  outrage  on  good  manners, 
and  might  even  be  counted  a  sin  if  she  condescended  to 
it  in  speaking  with  a  man  who  was  not  yet  her  husband. 
She  had  been  made  to  address  her  father  in  the  third 
person  feminine  singular  ever  since  she  had  learned  to 
talk,  precisely  as  Giovanni  wrote  to  her;  and  if  she 
prayed  to  the  Deity  with  the  less  formal  second  person 
plural,  this  was  doubtless  because  the  Italian  prayers 
had  been  framed  in  less  refined  and  courteous  times  than 
her  own. 

In  spite  of  his  stiff  grammar,  however,  Severi  managed 
to  write  things  that  brought  the  colour  to  her  face  and 
thejight  to  her  eyes.  He  said,  for  instance,  that  he  was 
coming  to  see  her  that  very  afternoon;  that  in  order  not 
to  attract  attention  at  the  gate  of  the  palace  he  would 
wear  civilian's  dress/ and  that  he  hoped  she  would  not 
only  receive  him,  but  would  send  Madame  Bernard  out 
of  the  room  for  a  little  while,  so  that  he  might  speak  to 
her  alone. 

The  proposal  was  so  delightful  and  yet  so  disturbing 


32  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

that  Angela  thought  it  must  be  wicked  and  tried  to  ex 
amine  her  conscience  at  once;  but  it  shut  up  like  an 
oyster  taken  out  of  the  water  and  pretended  to  be  per 
fectly  insensible,  turn  it  and  probe  it  how  she  would. 

So  she  gave  it  up;  and  she  did  so  the  more  readily 
because  it  would  be  quite  impossible  to  see  Giovanni  that 
afternoon,  enchanting  as  the  prospect  would  have  been. 
Her  aunt  the  Marchesa  had  sent  word  that  she  was 
coming  at  four  o'clock  with  the  lawyer  to  explain  An 
gela's  position  to  her,  and  it  was  impossible  to  say  how 
long  the  two  might  stay.  Meanwhile  she  must  send 
word  to  Giovanni  not  to  come,  for  it  would  not  suffice 
that  he  should  be  refused  admittance  at  the  gate,  since 
he  might  chance  to  present  himself  just  when  the  Mar 
chesa  drove  up,  which  would  produce  a  very  bad  im 
pression.  Angela  was  ashamed  to  send  her  maid  with 
a  note  to  a  young  officer,  and  she  would  not  trust  one  of 
the  men-servants;  she  turned  for  advice  to  Madame 
Bernard,  who  was  her  only  confidante. 

'  What  am  I  to  do  ? '  she  asked  when  she  had  explained 
everything.  '  He  is  generally  at  the  War  Office  at  this 
time  and  he  may  not  even  go  home  before  he  comes 
here.  I  see  no  way  but  to  send  a  note/ 

'He  would  certainly  go  home  to  change  his  clothes/ 
answered  the  practical  Frenchwoman;  'but  it  is  not 
necessary  for  you  to  write.  I  will  telephone  to  the  War 
Office,  and  if  the  Count  is  there  I  will  explain  everything/ 

Angela  looked  at  her  doubtfully. 

'But  then  the  servant  who  telephones  will  know/  she 
objected. 


THE  WHITE   SISTER  33 

'The  servant?  Why?  I  do  not  understand.  I 
shall  speak  myself.  No  one  will  be  there  to  hear.' 

1  Yourself  ?  My  father  never  could,  and  I  never  was 
shown  how  to  do  it.  Are  you  sure  you  understand  the 
thing?  It  is  very  complicated,  I  believe.7 

Madame  Bernard  was  not  surprised,  for  she  knew  the 
ways  of  the  Palazzo  Chiaromonte ;  but  she  smiled  and  as 
sured  the  young  girl  that  a  telephone  was  not  really  such 
a  dangerous  instrument  as  she  had  been  led  to  believe. 

'I  once  tried  to  make  a  few  stitches  with  a  sewing- 
machine/  Angela  said,  apparently  in  explanation. 

1 A  telephone  is  different/  Madame  Bernard  answered 
gravely.  '  Shall  I  ask  the  Count  to  come  to-morrow  at 
four  o'clock,  instead  of  to-day  ? 7 

Angela  hesitated,  and  then  blushed  faintly. 

'  Do  you  think ;  she  began,  but  she  stopped  and 

hesitated.  '  He  would  be  angry,  I  am  sure '  She 

seemed  to  be  suddenly  distressed. 

1  Your  father  ? '  asked  the  Frenchwoman,  guessing 
what  she  meant.  '  My  dear  Princess ' 

'  Oh,  please  don't  call  me  that ! '  cried  Angela.  '  You 
never  do ' 

'You  see,  you  are  a  great  personage  now,  my  dear 
child/  Madame  Bernard  answered,  'and  I  am  no  longer 
your  governess ' 

'  But  you  are  my  friend,  dear,  dear  Madame  Bernard ! 
Indeed,  I  think  you  are  my  only  friend  now ! ' 

And  thereupon  Angela  threw  her  arms  round  the 
little  woman's  neck  and  kissed  her  very  affectionately. 
Madame  Bernard's  fresh  face  beamed  with  pleasure. 


34  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'Thank  you,  my  dear,'  she  answered.  'And  as  for 
your  father,  my  child,  he  is  without  doubt  in  heaven; 
and  that  means  that  he  now  judges  you  by  your  inten 
tions  and  no  longer  by  appearances  only/ 

This  sage  little  speech  reassured  Angela,  though  she 
soon  afterwards  asked  herself  whether  it  was  quite  loyal 
to  allow  any  one  to  say  that  the  Prince  had  ever  judged 
her  'by  appearances  only.'  But  while  she  was  making 
this  reflection  Madame  Bernard  was  already  telephoning 
to  Giovanni,  who  was  at  the  War  Office,  as  Angela  sup 
posed,  and  he  answered  with  alacrity  that  he  would 
come  to  the  palace  on  the  following  afternoon  and  ask 
to  see  Madame  Bernard  on  a  matter  of  business.  It  was 
really  her  business  to  teach  French,  as  all  the  servants 
knew,  and  if  they  thought  that  the  young  officer  came 
to  ask  about  some  lessons  for  himself  or  a  friend,  so 
much  the  better.  Madame  Bernard  was  naturally 
practical,  and  Giovanni  was  by  nature  quick-witted; 
so  the  matter  was  settled  in  a  few  words,  to  the  satisfac 
tion  of  both ;  and  when  Angela  was  merely  told  that  he 
was  coming  she  was  much  more  pleased  than  she  was 
willing  to  show,  and  she  said  no  more  about  her  father's 
hypothetical  disapproval. 

That  afternoon  she  received  the  Marchesa  del  Prato 
and  the  lawyer  downstairs  in  the  second  of  the  outer 
drawing-rooms.  It  was  cold  there,  but  she  had  not 
quite  dared  to  order  a  fire  to  be  made,  because  the  Prince 
had  never  allowed  fires  except  in  the  inner  rooms,  which 
were  still  closed  under  the  notarial  seals.  The  place  had 
a  certain  grandeur  of  its  own,  for  the  massive  decorations, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  35 

the  heavy  furniture,  and  the  rich  brocade  curtains  all 
dated  from  the  best  period  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth's 
reign.  On  the  walls  there  were  four  or  five  first-rate 
pictures,  the  largest  of  which  was  a  magnificent  portrait 
of  a  former  Chiaromonte  by  Vandyke;  there  was  a  Holy 
Family  by  Guercino,  another  by  Bonifacio,  a  Magdalen 
with  the  box  of  ointment,  by  Andrea  del  Sarto,  and  one 
or  two  smaller  paintings  of  no  inconsiderable  value. 

But  at  that  hour  the  light  was  bad,  for  the  afternoon 
had  turned  cold  and  rainy  after  a  beautiful  morning, 
and  at  four  o'clock  it  was  still  too  early  to  have  lamps. 
A  few  moments  after  the  hour,  a  servant  opened  the 
door,  held  the  curtains  aside,  and  announced  the 
visitor. 

'Her  Excellency,  the  Princess  Chiaromonte!' 

Angela  started  slightly  at  the  name.  The  last  Princess 
Chiaromonte  who  had  passed  through  that  doorway  had 
been  her  mother,  and  in  her  solitude  the  girl  had  not  even 
been  told  that  her  uncle  had  already  assumed  the  title 
of  the  head  of  the  house.  The  lacquey  paid  no  attention 
whatever  to  the  quiet  man  in  black  who  followed  the 
Princess,  holding  his  hat  against  his  chest  with  both 
hands  and  advancing  with  a  bowing  motion  at  every 
step,  as  if  he  were  saluting  the  family  chairs  as  he  passed 
them.  Angela  vaguely  remembered  his  solemnly  ob 
sequious  face. 

Her  aunt  seemed  to  have  grown  taller  and  larger, 
as  she  bent  to  imprint  a  formal  kiss  on  the  girl's  cheek, 
and  then  sat  down  in  one  of  the  huge  old  easy-chairs, 
while  the  lawyer  seated  himself  at  a  respectful  distance 


36  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

on  an  ottoman  stool  with  his  high  hat  on  his  knees. 
Angela  took  her  place  at  one  end  of  the  stiff  sofa  that 
stood  directly  under  the  Vandyke  portrait,  and  she 
waited  for  her  aunt  to  speak. 

The  Princess  had  evidently  prepared  herself,  for  she 
spoke  clearly  and  did  not  pause  for  some  time. 

1  Your  uncle  has  a  slight  attack  of  influenza/  she  said; 
'otherwise  he  would  have  come  with  me,  and  I  should 
have  been  more  than  glad  if  he  himself  could  have  ex 
plained  the  whole  situation  to  you  instead  of  leaving 
that  painful  duty  to  me.  You  are  well  aware,  my  dear 
Angela,  that  your  father  always  clung  to  the  most 
prejudiced  traditions  of  the  intransigent  clericals,  and 
could  never  be  induced  to  conform  to  any  of  the  new 
regulations  introduced  by  the  Italian  Government.  In 
point  of  fact,  I  do  not  think  he  quite  realised  that  the 
old  order  had  passed  away  when  he  was  a  mere  boy, 
and  that  the  new  was  to  be  permanent,  if  not  everlasting. 
If  he  had,  he  would  have  acted  very  differently,  I  am 
sure,  and  my  present  duty  would  have  been  much  easier 
than  it  is.  Are  you  quite  certain  that  you  understand 
that?' 

Angela  was  quite  certain  that  she  did,  and  nodded 
quietly,  though  she  could  not  see  how  her  father's 
political  convictions  could  affect  her  own  present  situa 
tion. 

'I  have  no  doubt/  continued  the  Princess,  'that  he 
brought  you  up  to  consider  yourself  the  heiress  of  all  his 
fortune,  though  not  of  the  title,  which  naturally  goes  to 
the  eldest  male  heir.  Am  I  right  ?  ' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  37 

'He  never  told  me  anything  about  my  inheritance/ 
Angela  replied. 

'So  much  the  better.  It  will  be  easier  for  me  to  ex 
plain  your  rather  unusual  position.  In  the  first  place, 
I  must  make  it  clear  to  you  that  your  father  and  mother 
declined  to  go  before  the  mayor  at  the  Capitol  when  they 
were  married,  in  spite  of  the  regulations  which  had  then 
been  in  force  a  number  of  years.  They  were  devout 
Catholics  and  the  blessing  of  the  Church  was  enough  for 
them.  According  to  your  father,  to  go  through  any 
form  of  civil  ceremony,  before  or  after  the  wedding,  was 
equivalent  to  doubting  the  validity  of  the  sacrament  of 
marriage.' 

'  Naturally/  Angela  assented,  as  her  aunt  paused  and 
looked  at  her. 

1  Very  naturally.'  The  Princess's  eyes  began  to  glitter 
oddly,  and  the  lawyer  turned  his  hat  uneasily  on  his 
knees.  i  Very  naturally,  indeed !  Unfortunately  for  you, 
however,  your  father  was  not  merely  overlooking  a 
municipal  regulation,  as  he  supposed;  he  was  de 
liberately  bidding  defiance  to  the  laws  of  Italy.' 

'What  do  you  mean?'  asked  Angela  rather  ner 
vously. 

'It  is  very  painful  to  explain/  answered  the  elder 
woman  with  gleaming  eyes  and  a  disagreeable  smile. 
'The  simple  truth  is  that  as  your  father  and  mother 
were  not  civilly  married  —  civilly,  you  understand  — 
they  were  not  legally  married  at  all,  and  the  law  will 
never  admit  that  they  were ! ' 

Angela's  hand  tightened  on  the  arm  of  the  old  sofa. 


38  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'  Not  married  ?  '  she  cried.  '  My  father  and  mother 
not  married  ?  It  is  impossible,  it  is  monstrous ' 

'Not  " legally"  married,  I  said/  replied  the  Princess. 
'To  be  legally  married,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  go 
before  the  mayor  at  the  Capitol  and  have  the  civil 
ceremony  properly  performed.  Am  I  right  ?  '  she  asked, 
turning  suddenly  to  the  lawyer.  'It  is  absolutely 
necessary,  is  it  not  ? ' 

'Absolutely,  Excellency,'  the  legal  adviser  answered. 
'Otherwise  the  children  of  the  marriage  are  not  legiti 
mate.' 

'  What  does  that  mean  ? '  asked  Angela  in  a  frightened 
tone. 

'It  means/  explained  the  Princess,  'that  in  the  eyes 
of  the  law  you  do  not  exist ' 

Angela  tried  to  laugh. 

'  But  I  do  exist !  Here  I  am,  Angela  Chiaromonte,  to 
say  that  I  am  alive ! ' 

'Angela,  but  not  Chiaromonte/  corrected  the  Princess, 
hardly  able  to  hide  her  satisfaction.  'I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  your  dear  father  would  not  even  submit  to  the 
regulation  which  requires  all  parents  alike  to  declare 
the  birth  of  children,  and  he  paid  a  heavy  fine  for  his 
refusal.  The  consequence  is  that  when  your  birth  was 
entered  at  the  Municipality,  you  were  put  down  as  a 
foundling  child  whose  parents  refused  to  declare  them 
selves.' 

'A  foundling!  I,  a  foundling! '  Angela  half  rose  in 
amazed  indignation,  but  almost  instantly  sat  down 
again,  with  an  incredulous  smile.  '  Either  you  are  quite 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  39 

mad/  she  said,  'or  you  are  trying  to  frighten  me  for 
some  reason  I  do  not  understand.' 

The  Princess  raised  her  sandy  eyebrows  and  looked 
at  the  lawyer,  evidently  meaning  him  to  speak  for  her. 

'That  is  your  position,  Signorina,'  he  said  calmly. 
'You  have,  unhappily,  no  legal  status,  no  legal  name, 
and  no  claim  whatever  on  the  estate  of  His  Excellency 
Prince  Chiaromonte,  who  was  not  married  to  your  mother 
in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  and  refused  even  to  acknowledge 
you  as  his  child  by  registering  your  birth  at  the  mayor 
alty.  Every  inquiry  has  been  made  on  your  behalf,  and 
I  have  here  the  certified  copy  of  the  register  as  it  stands, 
declaring  you  to  be  a  foundling.  It  was  still  in  your 
father's  power  to  make  a  will  in  your  favour,  Signorina, 
and  as  the  laws  of  entail  no  longer  exist,  His  Excellency 
may  have  left  you  his  whole  estate,  real  and  personal, 
though  his  titles  and  dignities  will  in  any  case  pass  to  his 
brother.  I  must  warn  you,  however,  that  such  a  will 
might  not  prove  valid  in  law,  since  His  Excellency  did 
not  even  legally  acknowledge  you  as  his  child.  So 
far,  no  trace  of  a  will  has  been  found  with  his  late  Ex 
cellency's  notary,  nor  with  his  lawyer,  nor  deposited 
with  his  securities  at  his  banker's.  It  is  barely  possible 
that  some  paper  may  exist  in  the  rooms  which  are  still 
closed,  but  I  think  it  my  duty  to  tell  you  that  I  do  not 
expect  to  find  anything  of  the  kind  when  we  break  the 
seals  to-morrow,  in  the  presence  of  the  heirs  and  wit 
nesses/ 

He  ceased  speaking  and  looked  at  the  Princess  as  if 
asking  whether  he  should  say  more,  for  Angela  had  bent 


40  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

her  head  and  quietly  covered  her  eyes  with  one  hand, 
and  in  this  attitude  she  sat  quite  motionless  in  her  place. 
The  lawyer  thought  she  was  going  to  burst  into  tears, 
for  he  did  not  know  her. 

'That  will  do,  Calvi/  said  the  Princess  calmly.  'You 
have  made  it  all  very  clear,  and  you  may  retire  for  the 
present.  The  young  lady  is  naturally  overcome  by  the 
bad  news,  and  would  rather  be  alone  with  me  for  a  little 
while,  I  daresay/ 

Signor  Calvi  rose,  made  a  profound  obeisance  to  the 
Princess,  scarcely  bent  his  head  to  Angela,  and  retired, 
apparently  bowing  to  the  family  chairs  as  he  passed  each. 
The  young  girl  dropped  her  hand  and  looked  after  him 
with  a  sort  of  dull  curiosity ;  she  was  the  last  person  in 
the  world  to  take  offence  or  to  suppose  that  any  one 
meant  to  be  rude  to  her,  but  it  was  impossible  not  to 
notice  the  lawyer's  behaviour.  In  his  opinion  she  was 
suddenly  nobody,  and  deserved  no  more  notice  than  a 
shop-girl.  She  understood  enough  of  human  nature  to 
be  sure  that  he  counted  on  the  Princess's  approval. 

The  elder  woman  was  watching  her  with  a  satisfaction 
she  hardly  tried  to  conceal.  Her  small  hands  were 
encased  in  marvellously  fitting  black  gloves,  though 
black  gloves  rarely  fit  so  well  as  others,  and  were  crossed 
on  her  knee  over  the  little  leather  bag  she  always  carried. 
She  was  leaning  back  in  the  great  arm-chair,  and  the 
mourning  she  wore  made  her  faultless  complexion  look 
even  more  brilliant  than  it  was.  No  one  knew  how 
near  forty  the  Princess  might  be,  for  she  appeared  in  the 
Almanack  de  Gotha  without  a  birthday,  and  only  the 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  41 

date  of  her  marriage  was  given ;  but  the  year  was  1884, 
and  people  said  it  was  impossible  that  she  should  have 
been  less  than  seventeen  when  her  parents  had  brought 
her  to  Rome  and  had  tried  to  marry  her  to  the  elder  of 
the  Chiaromonte  family;  as  twenty  years  had  passed 
since  they  had  succeeded  in  capturing  the  second  son  for 
their  daughter,  it  was  clear  that  she  could  not  be  under 
thirty-seven.  But  her  complexion  was  extraordinary, 
and  though  she  was  a  tall  woman  she  had  preserved  the 
figure  and  grace  of  a  young  girl. 

Angela  did  not  look  directly  at  her  enemy  for  some 
seconds  after  the  lawyer  had  left  the  room,  closing  the 
door  behind  him,  not  loudly  but  quite  audibly ;  but  she 
was  the  first  to  speak  when  she  was  sure  that  he  was  out 
of  hearing. 

'You  hate  me/  she  said  at  last.  'What  have  I  done 
to  you?' 

The  Princess  was  not  timid,  nor  very  easily  surprised, 
but  the  question  was  so  direct  that  she  drew  further  back 
into  her  chair  with  a  quick  movement,  and  her  bright 
eye  sparkled  angrily  as  she  raised  her  sandy  eyebrows. 

'In  this  world/  she  said,  'the  truth  is  always  surpris 
ing  and  generally  unpleasant.  In  consideration  of  what 
I  have  been  obliged  to  tell  you  about  yourself,  I  can 
easily  excuse  your  foolish  speech.' 

'You  are  very  kind/  Angela  answered  quietly  enough, 
but  in  a  tone  that  the  Princess  did  not  like.  'I  was  not 
asking  your  indulgence,  but  an  explanation,  no  matter 
how  disagreeable  the  rest  of  the  truth  may  be.  What 
have  I  done  that  you  should  hate  me  ? ' 


42  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  Princess  laughed  contemptuously. 

'The  expression  is  too  strong/  she  retorted.  *  Hatred 
would  imply  an  interest  in  you  and  your  possible  doings, 
which  I  am  far  from  feeling,  I  assure  you !  Since  it 
turns  out  that  you  are  not  even  one  of  the  family  - 

She  laughed  again  and  raised  her  eyebrows  still  higher, 
instead  of  ending  the  speech. 

'From  what  you  say/  Angela  answered  with  a  good 
deal  of  dignity,  'I  can  only  understand  that  if  you  fol 
lowed  your  own  inclination  you  would  turn  me  out  into 
the  street/ 

'The  law  will  do  so  without  my  intervention/  an 
swered  the  elder  woman.  'If  my  brother-in-law  had 
even  taken  the  trouble  to  acknowledge  you  as  his  child, 
without  legitimising  you,  you  would  have  been  entitled 
to  a  small  allowance,  perhaps  two  or  three  hundred 
francs  a  month,  to  keep  you  from  starving.  But  as  he 
has  left  no  legal  proof  that  you  are  his  daughter,  and 
since  he  was  not  properly  married  to  your  mother,  you 
can  claim  nothing,  not  even  a  name !  You  are,  in  fact, 
a  destitute  foundling,  as  Calvi  just  said ! ' 

'It  only  remains  for  you  to  offer  me  your  charity/ 
Angela  said. 

'That  was  not  my  intention/  returned  the  Princess 
with  a  savage  sneer.  'I  have  talked  it  over  with  my 
husband,  and  we  do  not  see  why  he  should  be  expected 
to  support  his  brother's  —  natural  child  ! ' 

Angela  rose  from  her  seat  without  a  word  and  went 
quietly  towards  the  door;  but  before  she  could  reach  it 
the  Princess  had  followed  her  with  a  rush  and  a  dramatic 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  43 

sweep  of  her  black  cloth  skirt  and  plentiful  crape,  and 
had  caught  her  by  the  wrist  to  bring  her  back  to  the 
middle  of  the  great  room. 

'I  shall  not  keep  you  long ! '  cried  the  angry  woman. 
'  You  ask  me  what  you  have  done  that  I  should  hate  you, 
and  I  answer,  nothing,  since  you  are  nobody !  But  I 
hated  your  mother,  because  she  robbed  me  of  the  man 
I  wanted,  of  the  only  man  I  ever  loved  —  your  father  — 
and  when  I  married  his  brother  I  swore  that  she  should 
pay  me  for  that,  and  she  has  !  If  she  can  see  you  as  you 
are  to-day,  all  heaven  cannot  dry  her  tears,  for  all 
heaven  itself  cannot  give  you  a  name,  since  the  one  on 
her  own  tombstone  is  not  hers  by  any  right.  I  hope 
she  sees  you !  Oh,  I  hope  it  was  not  for  nothing  that  she 
fasted  till  she  fainted,  and  prayed  till  she  was  hoarse, 
and  knelt  in  damp  churches  till  she  died  of  it !  I  hope 
she  has  starved  and  whined  her  way  to  paradise  and  is 
looking  down  at  this  very  moment  and  can  see  her 
daughter  turned  out  of  my  house,  a  pauper  foundling, 
to  beg  her  bread  !  I  hope  you  are  in  a  state  of  grace,  as 
she  is,  and  that  the  communion  of  saints  brings  you 
near  enough  together  for  her  to  see  you ! ' 

'You  are  mad/  Angela  said  when  the  Princess  paused 
for  breath.  'You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying. 
Let  go  of  my  wrist  and  try  to  get  back  to  your  senses  ! ' 

Whether  the  Princess  was  really  out  of  her  mind,  as 
seemed  at  least  possible,  or  was  only  in  one  of  her  frequent 
fits  of  rage,  the  words  had  an  instantaneous  effect.  She 
dropped  Angela's  wrist,  drew  herself  up,  and  recovered 
her  self-control  in  a  few  seconds.  But  there  was  still  a 


44  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

dangerous  glare  in  her  cat-like  eyes  as  she  turned  to 
wards  the  window  and  faced  the  dull  yellowish  light  of 
the  late  afternoon. 

'You  will  soon  find  out  that  I  have  not  exaggerated/ 
she  said,  dropping  from  her  late  tone  of  fury  to  a  note  of 
icy  coldness.  'The  seals  will  be  removed  to-morrow  at 
noon,  and  I  suppose  no  one  can  prevent  you  from  being 
present  if  you  choose.  After  that  you  will  make  such 
arrangements  for  your  own  future  as  you  see  fit.  I 
should  recommend  you  to  apply  to  one  of  the  two  con 
vents  on  which  my  brother-in-law  lavished  nearly  three 
millions  of  francs  during  his  life.  One  or  the  other  of 
them  will  certainly  take  you  in  without  a  dowry,  and  you 
will  have  at  least  a  decent  roof  over  your  head.' 

With  this  practical  advice  the  Princess  Chiaromonte 
swept  from  the  room  and  Angela  was  left  alone  to  ask 
herself  whether  such  a  sudden  calamity  as  hers  had  ever 
before  overtaken  an  innocent  girl  in  her  Roman  world. 
She  went  back  very  slowly  to  the  sofa  and  sat  down  again 
under  the  great  Vandyke  portrait;  her  eyes  wandered 
from  one  object  to  another,  as  if  she  wished  to  make  an 
inventory  of  the  things  that  had  seemed  to  be  hers 
because  they  had  been  her  father's,  but  she  was  far  too 
completely  dazed  by  what  had  happened  to  think  very 
connectedly.  Besides,  though  she  did  not  dare  let  the 
thought  give  her  courage,  she  still  had  a  secret  convic 
tion  that  it  was  all  a  mistake  and  that  her  father  must 
have  left  some  document  which  would  be  found  among 
his  papers  the  next  day,  and  would  clear  away  all  this 
dreadful  misunderstanding. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  45 

As  for  the  rest  of  her  aunt's  story,  no  one  had  ever 
hinted  at  such  a  thing  in  her  hearing,  but  Madame 
Bernard  would  know  the  truth.  There  was  little  in 
deed  which  the  excellent  Frenchwoman  did  not  know 
about  the  old  Roman  families,  after  having  lived  among 
them  and  taught  their  children  French  for  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  century.  She  was  very  discreet  and  might 
not  wish  to  say  much,  but  she  certainly  knew  the  truth 
in  this  case. 

It  was  not  till  she  was  upstairs  in  her  own  room,  and 
was  trying  to  repeat  to  her  old  governess  just  what  had 
been  said,  that  Angela  began  to  realise  what  it  meant. 
Madame  Bernard  was  by  turns  horrified,  righteously 
angry,  and  moved  to  profound  pity;  at  first  she  could 
not  believe  her  ears,  but  when  she  did  she  invoked  the 
divine  wrath  on  the  inhuman  monster  who  had  the  pre 
sumption  to  call  herself  a  woman,  a  mother,  and  an 
aunt;  finally,  she  folded  Angela  in  a  motherly  embrace 
and  burst  into  tears,  promising  to  protect  her  at  the  risk 
of  her  own  life  —  a  promise  she  would  really  have  kept 
if  the  girl  had  been  in  bodily  danger. 

In  her  secret  heart  the  little  Frenchwoman  was  also 
making  some  reflections  on  the  folly  and  obstinacy  of 
the  late  Prince,  but  out  of  sheer  kindness  and  tact  she 
kept  them  to  herself  for  the  present.  Meanwhile  she 
said  she  would  go  and  consult  one  of  the  great  legal  lights, 
to  whose  daughters  she  had  lately  given  lessons  and  who 
had  always  been  very  kind  to  her.  It  was  nonsense, 
she  said,  to  believe  that  the  Prince's  brother  could  turn 
Angela  out  of  her  home  without  making  provision  for 


46  THE   WHITE  SISTER 

her,  such  a  liberal  provision  as  would  be  considered  a 
handsome  dowry  —  four  hundred  thousand  francs  would 
be  the  very  least.  The  Commendatore  was  a  judge  in 
the  Court  of  Appeals  and  knew  everything.  He  would 
not  even  need  to  consult  his  books !  His  brain  was  an 
encyclopaedia  of  the  law!  She  would  go  to  him  at 
once. 

But  Angela  shook  her  head  as  she  sat  looking  at  the 
small  wood  fire  in  the  old-fashioned  red-brick  fireplace. 
Now  that  she  had  told  her  story  she  saw  how  very  sure 
the  Princess  and  the  lawyer  must  have  been  to  speak  as 
they  had  both  spoken. 

But  Madame  Bernard  put  on  her  hat  and  went  out 
to  see  the  judge,  who  was  generally  at  home  late  in 
the  afternoon;  and  Angela  sat  alone  in  the  dusk  for 
a  while,  poking  her  little  fire  with  a  pair  of  very  rusty 
wrought-iron  tongs,  at  least  three  hundred  years  old, 
which  would  have  delighted  a  collector  but  which  were 
so  heavy  and  clumsy  that  they  hurt  her  hands. 

Her  aunt's  piece  of  advice  came  back  to  her;  she 
had  better  ask  to  be  taken  in  at  one  of  the  convents 
which  her  father  had  enriched  and  where  she  would  be 
received  without  a  dowry.  She  knew  them  both,  and 
both  were  communities  of  cloistered  nuns ;  the  one  was 
established  in  a  gloomy  mediaeval  fortress  in  the  heart 
of  the  city,  built  round  a  little  garden  that  looked  as  un 
healthy  as  the  old  Prioress's  own  muddy-complexioncd 
face  and  stubbly  chin;  the  other  was  shut  up  in  a 
hideous  modern  building  that  had  no  garden  at  all. 
She  felt  nothing  but  a  repugnance  that  approached 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  47 

horror  when  she  thought  of  either,  though  she  tried  to 
reprove  herself  for  it  because  her  father  had  given  so 
much  money  to  the  sisters,  and  had  always  spoken  of 
them  to  her  as  'holy  women.'  No  doubt  they  were; 
doubtless,  too,  Saint  Anthony  of  Thebes  had  been  a 
holy  man,  though  it  would  have  been  unpleasant  to 
share  his  cell,  or  even  his  meals.  Angela  felt  that  if 
she  was  to  live  on  bread,  water,  and  salad,  she  might 
as  well  have  liberty  with  her  dinner  of  herbs.  It  was 
heartless  to  think  of  marrying,  no  doubt,  when  her 
father  had  not  yet  been  dead  a  week,  but  since  she 
was  forced  to  take  the  future  into  consideration,  she 
felt  sure  that  Giovanni  would  marry  her  without  a 
penny,  and  that  she  should  be  perfectly  happy  with 
him.  She  could  well  afford  to  laugh  at  the  Princess's 
advice  so  long  as  Giovanni  was  alive.  He  was  coming 
to  see  her  to-morrow,  she  would  tell  him  everything, 
and  when  the  year  of  her  mourning  expired  they  would 
be  married. 

The  question  was,  what  she  was  to  do  in  the  mean 
time,  since  it  was  quite  clear  that  she  must  soon  leave 
the  home  in  which  she  had  been  brought  up.  Like  all 
people  who  have  never  been  face  to  face  with  want, 
or  any  state  of  life  even  distinctly  resembling  poverty, 
she  had  a  vague  idea  that  something  would  be  pro 
vided  for  her.  It  was  not  till  she  tried  to  define  what 
that  something  was  to  be  that  she  felt  a  little  sinking 
at  her  heart;  but  the  cheering  belief  soon  returned, 
that  the  whole  affair  was  a  mistake,  unless  it  was  a 
pure  invention  of  her  aunt's,  meant  to  frighten  her  into 


48  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

abandoning  her  rights.  In  a  little  while  Madame  Ber 
nard  would  come  back,  beaming  with  satisfaction,  with 
a  message  from  the  learned  judge  to  say  that  such  in 
justice  and  robbery  were  not  possible  under  modern 
enlightened  laws ;  and  Angela  smiled  to  think  that  she 
could  have  been  so  badly  frightened  by  a  mad  woman 
and  an  obsequious  old  lawyer. 

Decidedly,  in  spite  of  her  gift  for  remembering  prayers 
and  litanies,  the  mere  thought  of  a  cloistered  life  re 
pelled  her.  Like  most  very  religiously  brought  up 
girls  she  had  more  than  once  fancied  that  she  was 
going  to  have  a  'vocation'  for  the  veil;  but  a  sensible 
confessor  had  put  that  out  of  her  head,  discerning  at 
once  in  her  mental  state  those  touches  of  maiden  melan 
choly  which  change  the  look  of  the  young  life  for  a  day 
or  a  week,  as  the  shadow  of  a  passing  cloud  saddens  a 
sunlit  landscape.  It  was  characteristic  of  Angela  that 
the  possibility  of  becoming  a  nun  as  a  refuge  from 
present  and  future  trouble  did  not  present  itself  to  her 
seriously,  now  that  trouble  was  really  imminent.  She 
was  too  buoyant  by  nature,  her  disposition  was  too 
even  and  sensible,  and  above  all,  she  was  too  courageous 
to  think  of  yielding  tamely  to  the  fate  her  aunt  wished 
to  impose  upon  her. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  she  should  at 
least  break  down  for  a  little  while  that  afternoon  and 
have  a  good  cry  in  her  solitude,  while  Madame  Bernard 
was  on  her  errand  to  the  judge;  but  she  did  not,  though 
there  was  a  moment  when  she  felt  that  tears  were  not 
far  off.  By  way  of  keeping  them  back  she  went  into 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  49 

her  bedroom,  lit  a  candle  and  knelt  down  to  recite  the 
prayers  she  had  selected  to  say  daily  for  her  father. 
They  were  many,  some  of  them  were  beautiful,  and 
more  than  half  of  them  were  centuries  old.  Her  con 
viction  that  the  very  just  man  was  certainly  in  heaven 
already  did  not  make  it  seem  wholly  useless  to  pray 
for  him.  No  one  could  be  quite  sure  of  what  happened 
in  paradise,  and  in  any  case,  if  he  was  in  no  need  of 
such  intercession  himself,  she  was  allowed  to  hope  that 
grace  might  overflow  and  avail  to  help  some  poor  soul 
in  purgatory,  by  means  of  the  divine  indulgence. 

Madame  Bernard  came  back  at  last,  but  there  was 
consternation  in  her  kindly  face,  for  the  great  legal 
light  had  confirmed  every  word  the  Princess  and  her 
lawyer  had  said  to  Angela,  and  had  shrugged  his  shoulders 
at  the  suggestion  that  a  will  might  still  be  found.  He 
had  told  the  governess  plainly  that  a  man  married  to 
a  woman  only  by  a  religious  ceremony  was  not  legally 
her  husband,  and  that  his  children  had  neither  name 
nor  rights  unless  he  went  through  the  legal  form  of 
recognising  them  before  the  proper  authorities.  If  the 
parents  died  without  making  a  will,  the  children  had 
no  claim  whatever  on  the  estate  unless  they  had  been 
properly  recognised.  If  there  was  a  will,  however,  they 
might  inherit,  even  if  they  had  not  been  legitimised, 
provided  that  no  lawful  heirs  of  the  testators  were 
living,  ascendants  or  descendants.  The  Cpmmendatore 
had  expressed  great  surprise  that  the  late  Prince  should 
not  have  been  warned  of  his  daughter's  irregular  posi 
tion  by  his  legal  advisers.  It  only  showed,  he  said, 


50  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

how  necessary  the  law  was,  since  people  who  disre 
garded  it  got  into  such  terrible  trouble. 

The  French  teacher  instinctively  felt  that  there  was 
something  wrong  with  the  final  syllogism,  but  it  was 
only  too  clear  that  the  Commendatore  knew  his  busi 
ness,  and  that  unless  a  legally  executed  will  were  found 
on  the  morrow  Angela  had  not  the  smallest  chance  of 
getting  a  penny  from  the  great  estate  her  father  had 
left. 

'If  they  are  so  inhuman  as  to  turn  you  out  of  your 
home  without  providing  for  you/  Madame  Bernard 
said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  '  I  do  not  see  what  you  are 
to  do,  my  dear  child.  I  am  ashamed  to  offer  you  the 
little  spare  room  I  sometimes  let  to  single  foreign  ladies 
-  and  yet  —  if  you  would  take  it  —  ah,  you  would  be 
so  welcome !  It  is  not  a  bad  exposure  —  it  has  the 
sun  on  it  all  day,  though  there  is  only  one  window. 
The  carpet  is  getting  a  little  threadbare,  but  the  cur 
tains  are  new  and  match  the  furniture  —  a  pretty 
flowered  chintz,  you  know.  And  I  will  make  little 
dishes  for  you,  since  you  have  no  appetite!  A  "na- 
varin,"  my  dear,  I  make  it  well,  and  a  real  "fricasseV  ! 
We  Frenchwomen  can  all  cook !  The  "  navarin  "  was  my 
poor  husband's  predilection  —  when  he  had  eaten  one 
made  by  me,  he  used  to  say  that  the  fleshpots  of  Egypt 
were  certainly  the  "navarin"  and  nothing  else.  But 
when  I  am  alone  it  is  not  worth  while  to  take  so  much 
trouble.  An  egg,  five  sous'  worth  of  ham  and  brawn, 
and  a  roll  —  that  suffices  me  when  I  am  alone !  But 
if  you  will  accept  the  little  room  —  ah,  then  I  will  put 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  51 

on  an  apron  and  go  into  the  kitchen,  and  you  shall 
taste  the  French  cookery  of  a  Frenchwoman ! ' 

Angela  was  not  listening  to  all  this,  for  she  was  too 
much  touched  by  the  generous  intention  to  hear  half 
of  what  Madame  Bernard  said,  and  she  could  only 
press  the  little  governess's  hand  again  while  she  tried 
to  edge  in  a  word  of  thanks  between  the  quick  sentences. 

'And  as  for  the  rest/  Madame  Bernard  ran  on,  'I 
have  chaperoned  half  the  young  girls  in  Roman  society 
to  concerts  and  to  the  dentist's,  and  I  have  a  nice  little 
sitting-room,  and  there  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why 
Count  Severi  should  not  come  to  see  us,  until  you  can 
be  married ! ' 

This,  at  least,  did  not  escape  Angela,  who  squeezed 
the  small  plump  hand  very  hard,  and  at  last  succeeded 
in  speaking  herself. 

'You  are  too  good!'  she  cried.  'Too  kind!  If  it 
turns  out  to  be  true,  if  I  am  really  to  be  a  beggar,  I 
would  rather  beg  of  you  than  of  distant  cousins  and 
people  I  know!  Besides,  they  are  all  so  afraid  of  my 
aunt's  tongue  that  not  one  of  them  would  dare  to  take 
me  in,  even  for  a  week !  But  I  will  not  come  unless 
you  will  let  me  work  to  help  you,  in  some  way  —  I  do 
not  know  how  —  is  there  nothing  I  know  well  enough 
to  teach?' 

'Oh,  la,  la!'  cried  Madame  Bernard.  'Will  you 
please  not  say  such  things,  my  dear !  As  if  it  were 
not  the  greatest  happiness  in  the  world  you  will  be 
giving  me,  a  lonely  old  woman,  to  come  and  live  with 
me,  and  help  me  take  care  of  the  parrot  and  water  the 


52  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

flowers  in  the  window  every  evening  at  sunset,  and 
learn  how  to  make  a  "navarin!"  Work?  Oh  yes! 
You  shall  work,  my  dear  child !  If  you  think  it  is 
easy  to  please  a  parrot,  try  it !  I  only  say  that ! ' 

'I  will  do  my  best/  Angela  said,  smiling.  ' To 
morrow,  at  this  hour,  we  shall  know  what  is  to  happen.' 

'What  has  happened,  has  happened/  said  Madame 
Bernard,  as  calmly  as  any  Hindu,  though  she  was  not 
a  fatalist.  'Even  if  there  is  a  paper  somewhere,  do 
you  think  the  Marchesa  will  not  be  the  first  to  find  it 
and  tear  it  to  a  thousand  bits?  No,  I  will  not  call  her 
"Princess  Chiaromonte" !  I,  who  knew  your  mother, 
my  dear!  Trust  me,  if  there  is  a  will  in  the  sealed 
rooms,  the  Marchesa  will  discover  it  before  any  one ! ' 

Angela  thought  that  this  might  be  true,  for  she  had 
a  most  vivid  recollection  of  her  aunt's  look  and  voice 
during  the  late  interview.  The  more  she  thought  of 
the  immediate  future,  the  clearer  it  became  to  her 
that  she  must  accept  her  old  governess's  offer  of  shelter 
for  the  present.  She  could  not  bring  herself  to  beg  a 
lodging  and  the  bare  necessaries  of  life  from  any  of 
those  people  whom  she  had  called  her  friends.  There 
were  at  least  half-a-dozen  girls  with  whom  she  had 
been  intimate  at  the  Sacred  Heart,  and  during  the 
past  winter,  and  some  of  them  were  connections  of 
her  father's  and  would  be  profoundly  shocked  to  learn 
what  her  position  now  was.  No  doubt  their  parents 
would  take  her  in  for  a  few  days,  and  would  very  possi 
bly  do  more  than  that,  and  formally  protest  to  her 
aunt  and  uncle  against  the  treatment  she  had  received. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  53 

But  could  she  stay  with  any  of  them  longer  than  a 
week  on  such  a  footing?  Would  she  be  anything 
better  than  a  waif,  not  knowing  where  she  should  sleep 
or  get  a  meal  a  few  days  hence?  No;  her  only  choice 
lay  between  accepting  Madame  Bernard's  offer,  and 
presenting  herself  as  a  candidate  for  charity  at  one 
of  the  two  convents  her  father  had  protected.  After 
wards,  a  year  hence  or  more,  when  she  should  be  mar 
ried  to  Giovanni  Severi,  she  would  find  some  means  of 
amply  repaying  the  generous  woman,  without  hurting 
her  feelings.  Until  then,  she  must  accept  the  kindness 
and  be  thankful  that  it  came  from  such  a  true  friend. 

She  had  no  intention  of  showing  herself  downstairs 
the  next  day,  when  the  seals  were  to  be  removed  and 
the  papers  examined.  If  she  had  cherished  any  illu 
sion  as  to  the  existence  of  a  document  in  her  favour, 
Madame  Bernard's  last  speech  had  effectually  destroyed 
it,  which  was  the  best  thing  that  could  have  happened. 
At  least,  she  was  sure  of  Giovanni,  and  a  year  must 
pass  in  a  year's  time !  That  was  axiomatic,  and  when 
the  twelve  months  were  over  she  would  be  married 
quietly.  She  would  not  bring  him  a  handsome  dowry 
as  she  had  fully  expected  to  do,  and  though  his  father 
was  well-off,  there  were  other  children,  so  that  she 
could  not  expect  to  be  rich;  but  what  difference  could 
that  make  to  two  young  people  who  loved  each  other? 
Evidently,  none  at  all. 

It  rained  all  the  morning  and  Angela  spent  most  of 
the  time  in  a  sort  of  apathy,  so  far  as  her  companion 
could  see,  sitting  still  for  an  hour  with  a  book  she  did 


54  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

not  read,  then  moving  about  to  rooms  in  an  objectless 
way  only  to  go  back  to  her  chair  in  a  few  minutes  and 
to  sit  motionless  again  before  the  smouldering  wood  fire. 

Madame  Bernard,  on  the  contrary,  was  very  busy  in 
making  preparations  to  take  her  away  if  a  sudden  move 
should  be  necessary.  Though  the  servants  were  evi 
dently  informed  of  what  was  taking  place,  she  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  a  couple  of  trunks  and  a  valise  brought 
up,  and  she  began  to  pack  them  with  clothing  from 
Angela's  wardrobe,  taking  only  such  things  as  would 
be  useful  in  the  quiet  life  of  mourning  the  girl  was  to 
lead  for  a  year.  The  maid  had  disappeared,  pre 
sumably  to  look  for  a  place,  and  when  it  was  time  for 
luncheon  it  was  not  without  difficulty  that  Madame 
Bernard  got  a  footman  to  bring  something  cold  on  a 
tray.  It  was  quite  clear  by  this  time  that  the  whole 
household  knew  the  truth  and  expected  Angela  to 
leave  the  palace  that  day,  and  the  little  woman  paused 
more  than  once  in  her  packing  to  shake  her  fist  at  the 
slim  visions  of  the  Princess  Chiaromonte  that  crossed 
the  field  of  her  imagination. 

Downstairs  matters  proceeded  as  she  had  foreseen. 
The  Princess,  two  lawyers,  a  notary,  and  several  clerks 
had  removed  the  seals  and  locked  themselves  in  the 
inner  apartment  to  examine  the  papers  and  such  valu 
ables  as  were  there;  but  it  is  needless  to  say  that  they 
found  nothing  in  the  nature  of  a  will,  nor  any  docu 
ment  even  expressing  a  wish  on  the  part  of  the  de 
ceased.  The  notary  observed  that  it  was  very  strange, 
but  one  of  the  lawyers  shrugged  his  shoulders  arid 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  55 

smiled,  while  the  other  asked  why,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  a  man  so  young  and  healthy  as  the  late  Prince 
should  have  been  expected  to  make  careful  prepara 
tions  against  his  sudden  demise  when  he  might  well 
expect  to  live  thirty  years  longer.  The  Princess  said 
nothing,  and  her  husband  did  not  appear;  indeed,  he 
never  did,  and  on  all  occasions  of  importance,  like  the 
present,  the  Princess  was  provided  with  a  power  of 
attorney  to  represent  him,  speak  for  him,  decide  for 
him,  and  sign  documents  for  him.  There  were  many 
stories  about  him  in  society,  none  of  which  contained 
more  than  the  merest  particle  of  truth.  Some  people 
said  he  was  mad,  others  maintained  that  he  was  para 
lysed;  there  were  those  who  confidently  asserted  that 
his  face  was  disfigured  by  an  unsightly  claret  mark, 
and  it  was  even  suggested  that  he  was  a  leper.  When 
any  of  these  tales  were  repeated  to  his  wife  by  dear 
friends,  she  answered  that  he  was  very  well  and  had 
just  gone  to  the  Abruzzi  to  look  after  one  of  the  large 
holdings  of  the  estate,  or  that  he  was  in  Hungary, 
shooting  with  distant  cousins  who  had  lands  there,  or 
that,  if  the  truth  must  be  known,  he  had  a  touch  of 
the  influenza  and  would  probably  run  down  to  Sicily 
for  a  change,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  travel.  Angela 
herself  had  not  seen  him  since  she  had  been  a  mere 
child.  She  remembered  that  once,  when  she  was  at 
her  aunt's,  a  tall,  pale  man  with  a  thoughtful  face  had 
passed  through  the  room  quickly  without  paying  the 
least  attention  to  any  one;  she  had  asked  her  small 
cousins  who  he  was,  and  had  been  told  in  an  awe- 


56  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

struck  whisper  that  it  was  their  father.  That  was 
probably  the  only  time  she  had  ever  laid  eyes  on  him; 
and  somehow  she  did  not  connect  him  with  what  was 
happening  to  her  now.  It  was  all  her  aunt's  doing; 
the  thin  and  thoughtful  man  had  not  looked  as  if  he 
were  heartless,  he  would  not  have  allowed  his  brother's 
child  to  be  turned  out  a  beggar,  under  the  letter  of  the 
law. 

Yet  the  Princess's  most  intimate  and  affectionate 
enemies  had  not  succeeded  in  fathoming  the  mystery. 
Two  of  them,  who  were  connections  of  her  husband's, 
had  once  had  a  theory  that  she  had  locked  him  up  and 
kept  him  a  prisoner  for  her  own  ends;  a  similar  case 
had  then  recently  occurred  in  Palermo,  where  a  widowed 
lady  and  her  daughter  had  been  kept  in  confinement 
during  several  years,  and  almost  starved  to  death,  by 
the  wicked  steward  of  their  estates.  Accordingly,  the 
aforesaid  connections  had  appealed  to  the  chief  of 
secret  police  for  information  about  their  relative;  but 
in  a  few  days  he  had  been  able  to  tell  them  confidently 
that  the  Marchese  del  Prato  was  in  good  health  and 
quite  free,  that  he  was  an  enthusiastic  scholar,  and 
was  writing  an  exhaustive  work  on  the  mythology  of 
Pindar's  Odes,  and  that  there  was  no  cause  for  any 
anxiety  about  him.  So  that  matter  was  settled  for  ever. 

At  half-past  three  o'clock  the  Princess  v/ent  away, 
leaving  the  lawyers  and  clerks  to  finish  theL  work,  for 
she  was  more  than  satisfied  that  no  will  nor  any  similar 
document  would  be  found  amongst  the  late  Prince's 
papers,  and  everything  else  was  mere  formality;  the 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  57 

regular  inventories  would  be  made  later  when  the  suc 
cession  duties  had  to  be  paid,  but  meanwhile  there  was 
nothing  to  hinder  her  from  taking  possession  in  her 
husband's  name.  Before  leaving  the  palace  she  sent 
for  the  butler,  and  told  him  that  'Signorina  Angela' 
was  to  be  requested  to  'remove  her  effects'  the  next 
day.  She  further  condescended  to  inform  him  that  the 
'Signorina7  had  been  ascertained  to  be  a  nameless 
foundling  who  had  no  share  in  the  inheritance  and 
must  shift  for  herself,  as  it  was  not  the  intention  of 
the  Prince  to  support  such  a  person.  The  butler  had 
learned  something  of  the  great  Roman  families  during 
a  brilliant  career  in  the  servants'  hall,  and  he  could 
have  told  some  singularly  romantic  tales,  but  he  had 
never  had  experience  of  anything  like  this.  He  tried 
to  look  at  the  Princess  for  a  moment  before  he  an 
swered  her,  but  he  could  not  face  her  glittering  eyes. 

'Very  well,  Excellency,'  he  said,  bowing.  'Is  the 
young  lady  to  have  her  meals  here  till  she  leaves? 
The  French  governess  is  also  staying  in  the  house.7 

'Send  them  up  something  from  the  servants'  dinner/ 
the  Princess  answered. 

'Very  well,  Excellency/ 

But  the  butler  looked  after  her  with  considerable 
curiosity,  watching  her  graceful  figure  as  she  went 
down  the  grand  staircase  and  holding  the  swinging 
door  open  on  the  landing  till  she  was  out  of  sight. 
Then  he  went  in  again,  looked  round  the  empty  hall, 
and  spoke  aloud,  asking  a  question  that  has  never  had 
any  answer. 

'  Women,  women  —  who  can  understand  you?' 


CHAPTER  IV 

HALF-AN-HOUR  later  Giovanni  Severi  entered  the  gate 
below  in  civilian's  dress  and  asked  if  he  could  see  Madame 
Bernard,  the  French  teacher,  who  had  let  him  know 
that  she  was  stopping  in  the  palace.  The  porter  told 
him  to  ring  at  the  right-hand  door  on  the  second  land 
ing,  but  added  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  any  one 
would  let  him  in,  as  there  was  'confusion  in  the  house/ 

Madame  Bernard  was  waiting  for  him,  however;  he 
had  arrived  punctually  and  she  let  him  in  herself. 

'Have  you  heard,  Monsieur?'  she  asked,  before  he 
could  speak.  'Do  you  know  what  is  happening?' 

'Yes/  he  answered.  'All  Rome  knows  it  by  this 
time,  for  the  story  was  in  the  morning  papers.  May  I 
see  Donna  Angela?' 

'Come,  Monsieur.' 

She  had  fastened  the  outer  door  while  he  was  speak 
ing,  and  she  now  led  the  way  without  any  more  words. 

Angela  knew  Giovanni's  step  at  a  distance,  and 
when  he  entered  she  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  He  had  never  before  seen  her  in  black,  and 
she  was  paler  than  usual;  he  looked  anxiously  into  her 
face  as  he  took  her  hand,  and  she,  meeting  his  eyes 
expectantly,  saw  a  change  in  them.  Neither  Angela 
nor  Severi  spoke  at  first,  and  in  the  silence  Madame 

58 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  59 

Bernard  passed  them  and  went  into  the  next  room, 
shutting  the  door  after  her. 

'Have  you  heard ?'  Angela  asked,  still  standing  and 
still  holding  Giovanni's  hand. 

'Yes.  It  is  in  all  the  papers  to-day.  There  is  an 
outcry.  If  your  aunt  shows  herself  in  the  streets  she 
will  be  hissed.  But  she  has  the  law  on  her  side.  I 
have  been  to  two  lawyers  to  inquire/ 

He  spoke  in  short  sentences,  nervously,  and  when 
he  stopped  he  bit  his  moustache. 

'There  is  something  else/  Angela  answered.  'I  see 
it  in  your  eyes.  There  is  something  I  do  not  know, 
some  still  worse  news.  Sit  down  there  by  the  fire 
opposite  me  and  tell  me  everything,  for  I  am  not  afraid. 
Nothing  can  frighten  me  now/ 

She  seated  herself  where  she  had  sat  more  than  half 
the  day,  and  he  took  the  chair  to  which  she  had  pointed. 
She  poked  the  small  green  logs  with  the  antiquated 
tongs  and  watched  the  sparks  that  flew  upwards  with 
every  touch  while  she  waited  for  him  to  speak.  But 
he  looked  at  her  in  silence,  forgetting  everything  for  a 
while  except  that  he  was  really  alone  with  her,  almost 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  He  changed  his  position 
and  bent  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his 
hands  together,  so  that  he  was  nearer  to  her.  With 
out  turning  her  face  from  the  fire  she  saw  him  in  a 
side-glance,  but  made  no  answering  motion. 

'Tell  me  what  it  is/  she  said  softly.  'Only  one 
thing  could  hurt  me  now.' 

'It  is  hard  to  tell/  he  answered  in  rather  a  dull  voice. 


60  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

She  misunderstood,  and  turned  to  him  slowly  with 
wondering  and  frightened  eyes.  Her  hand  weakened, 
without  quite  losing  its  hold,  and  the  ends  of  the  clumsy 
tongs  clattered  on  the  brick  hearth.  The  doubt  that 
had  sprung  upon  her  like  a  living  thing  as  soon  as  she 
saw  him,  began  to  dig  its  claws  into  her  heart. 

'If  it  is  so  hard  to  tell/  she  said,  'it  must  be  that 
one  thing.'  She  turned  resolutely  to  the  fire  again. 
'If  it  is  to  be  good-bye,  please  go  away  quietly  and 
leave  me  alone/ 

The  words  were  not  all  spoken  before  he  had  caught 
her  arm,  so  suddenly  that  the  old  tongs  fell  on  the 
bricks  with  a  clang.  Like  him,  she  had  been  leaning 
forward  in  her  low  chair,  and  as  he  drew  her  to  him 
she  involuntarily  slipped  from  her  seat  and  found  her 
self  kneeling  on  one  knee  beside  him.  She  gave  a  little 
cry,  more  of  surprise  than  of  displeasure  or  timidity, 
but  he  did  not  heed  her.  It  was  the  first  time  they 
had  ever  been  left  alone  together,  and  while  he  still 
held  her  with  his  right  hand  his  left  stole  round  her 
neck,  to  bring  her  face  nearer. 

But  she  resisted  him  almost  fiercely;  she  set  both 
her  hands  against  his  chest  and  pushed  herself  from 
him  with  all  her  might,  and  the  red  blush  rose  even  to 
her  forehead  at  the  thought  of  the  kiss  she  almost  saw 
on  his  lips,  a  kiss  that  hers  had  never  felt.  He  meant 
nothing  against  her  will,  and  when  he  felt  that  she  was 
matching  her  girl's  strength  against  his,  as  if  she  feared 
him,  his  arms  relaxed  and  he  let  her  go.  She  sprang  to 
her  feet  like  a  young  animal  released,  and  leaned  against 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  61 

the  mantelpiece  breathing  hard,  and  fixing  her  burning 
eyes  on  the  old  engraving  of  Saint  Ursula,  asleep  in  a 
queer  four-post  bedstead  with  her  crown  at  her  feet, 
that  hung  over  the  fireplace.  But  instead  of  rising  to 
stand  beside  her,  Giovanni  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
his  hands  crossed  over  one  knee;  and  instead  of  look 
ing  up  to  her  face,  he  gazed  steadily  down  at  the  hem 
of  her  long  black  skirt,  where  it  lay  motionless  across 
the  wolf's  skin  that  served  for  a  hearth-rug. 

'What  is  it?'  she  asked,  after  a  long  pause,  and 
rather  unsteadily. 

He  understood  that  she  was  going  back  to  the  ques 
tion  she  had  asked  him  at  first,  but  still  he  did  not 
answer.  She  kept  her  eyes  steadily  on  Saint  Ursula 
while  she  spoke  again. 

'If  it  is  not  good-bye,  what  is  it  that  is  so  hard  to 
say?' 

'I  have  had  a  long  talk  with  my  father.' 

Angela  moved  a  little  and  looked  down  at  his  bent 
head,  for  he  spoke  in  an  almost  despairing  tone.  She 
thought  she  understood  him  at  last. 

'He  will  not  hear  of  our  marriage,  now  that  I  am  a 
beggar/  she  said,  prompting  him. 

But  Giovanni  raised  his  face  at  once,  and  rather 
proudly. 

'You  are  unjust  to  him,'  he  said.  'He  is  not  changed. 
It  is  a  very  different  matter.  He  has  had  a  great  mis 
fortune,  and  has  lost  almost  all  he  had,  without  much 
hope  of  recovering  anything.  We  were  very  well  off, 
and  I  should  have  had  a  right  to  marry  you,  though 


62  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

you  had  not  a  penny,  if  this  had  not  happened.  As  it 
is,  my  father  is  left  with  nothing  but  his  General's  pen 
sion  to  support  my  mother.  My  brothers  will  both 
need  help  for  years  to  come,  for  they  are  much  younger 
than  I  am,  and  I  must  live  on  my  pay  if  I  mean  to  stay 
in  the  service/ 

'Is  that  all?'    Angela's  voice  trembled  a  little. 

'  Yes,  my  pay,  and  nothing  more  — 

'I  did  not  mean  that,'  she  hastened  to  say,  inter 
rupting  him,  and  there  was  a  note  of  returning  glad 
ness  in  her  voice.  'I  meant  to  ask  if  that  was  all  the 
bad  news/ 

'  It  is  enough,  surely,  since  it  half  ruins  our  lives ! 
What  right  have  I  to  ask  you  to  keep  your  promise  and 
marry  me,  since  I  have  not  enough  for  us  to  live  on?' 

Angela  turned  quite  towards  him  now  and  repeated 
his  own  words. 

'And  what  right  have  I  to  ask  you  to  keep  your 
promise  and  marry  me?  When  you  gave  your  word, 
you  thought  I  had  a  great  name  and  was  heir  to  a 
splendid  fortune.  You  were  deceived.  I  am  a  "desti 
tute  foundling"  — the  lawyers  have  proved  it,  and  the 
proof  of  their  proofs  is  that  I  am  obliged  to  accept  the 
charity  of  my  old  governess,  God  bless  her !  If  ever  a 
man  had  a  right  to  take  back  his  word,  you  have. 
Take  it,  if  you  will.  You  are  free!' 

Giovanni  stood  up  beside  her,  almost  angry. 

'Do  you  think  I  wanted  your  fortune?'  he  asked, 
a  little  pale  under  his  tan. 

'Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  poverty?' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  63 

Her  lips  were  still  parted  in  a  smile  after  she  had 
asked  the  question,  and  with  the  gesture  of  an  older 
woman  she  tapped  his  arm  half  reproachfully.  The 
colour  came  back  to  his  brown  face. 

'I  fear  poverty  for  you/  he  answered,  'and  I  am 
going  to  fight  it  for  your  sake  if  you  have  the  courage 
to  wait  for  me.  Have  you?' 

'I  will  wait  for  ever/  she  said  simply  as  she  laid 
her  hand  in  his. 

'Then  I  shall  leave  the  army  at  once/  he  replied. 
'So  far,  I  have  made  what  is  called  a  good  career,  but 
promotion  is  slow  and  the  pay  is  wretched  until  a  man 
is  very  high  up.  An  artillery  officer  is  an  engineer,  you 
know,  and  a  military  engineer  can  always  find  well- 
paid  work,  especially  if  he  is  an  electrician,  as  I  am. 
In  two  years  I  promise  you  that  we  shall  be  able  to 
marry  and  be  at  least  comfortable,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  I  should  not  make  a  fortune  quite  equal  to 
what  my  father  has  lost/ 

He  spoke  with  the  perfect  confidence  of  a  gifted  and 
sanguine  man,  sure  of  his  own  powers,  and  his  words 
pleased  her.  Perhaps  what  had  attracted  her  most  in 
him  from  the  beginning  had  been  his  enthusiasm  and 
healthy  faith  in  the  world,  which  had  contrasted  brill 
iantly  with  her  father's  pessimism  and  bigoted  political 
necrolatry,  if  I  may  coin  a  word  from  the  Greek  to 
express  an  old-fashioned  Roman's  blind  worship  of  the 
dead  past. 

Angela  was  pleased,  as  any  woman  would  have  been, 
but  she  protested  against  what  she  knew  to  be  a  sacrifice. 


64  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'No/  she  said  decidedly,  'you  must  not  give  up  the 
army  and  your  career  for  the  sake  of  making  money,  even 
for  me.  Do  no  officers  marry  on  their  pay  ?  I  am  sure 
that  many  do,  and  manage  very  well  indeed.  You  told 
me  not  long  ago  that  you  were  expecting  promotion 
from  day  to  day ;  and  in  any  case  I  could  not  marry  you 
within  a  year,  at  the  least.' 

'If  I  do  not  begin  working  at  once,  that  will  be  just 
a  year  lost/  objected  Giovanni. 

'A  year!    Will  that  make  much  difference?' 

'Why  not  ten,  then?  As  if  a  year  would  not  be  a 
century  long,  while  I  am  waiting  for  you  —  as  if  it  were 
not  already  half  a  lifetime  since  last  month,  when  we 
told  each  other  the  truth !  Wait  ?  Yes,  if  I  must ; 
for  ever,  as  you  said  awhile  ago,  if  there  is  no  other  way. 
But  if  it  can  be  helped,  then  not  an  hour,  not  a  minute ! 
Why  should  we  let  happiness  pass  us  by  and  not  take  it 
when  we  may  and  can?  There  is  not  enough  in  the 
world,  as  it  is;  and  you  cannot  even  pretend  that  you 
are  generous  if  you  do  not  take  your  share,  since  what 
fate  means  for  you  is  useless  for  any  one  else!  No, 
dear,  no !  We  will  take  the  fruit  there  is  on  the  tree, 
and  leave  none  to  rot  on  the  branch  after  we  are  gone. 
Promise  to  marry  me  a  year  from  to-day,  and  leave  the 
rest  to  me  —  will  you  ?  " 

1  Yes  —  but  promise  me  one  thing,  too.  Do  not  resign 
to-morrow,  nor  next  week,  as  I  know  you  mean  to  do. 
Take  a  month  to  think  it  over,  and  to  look  about  you. 
You  are  so  impulsive  —  well,  so  generous  —  that  you 
are  capable  of  sending  in  your  resignation  to-morrow.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  65 

'It  is  already  written/  Giovanni  answered.  'I  was 
going  to  send  it  in  to-night.' 

'I  knew  it!  But  you  must  not.  Please,  please, 
take  a  little  time  —  it  will  be  so  much  wiser.  I  will 
wait  for  you  for  ever,  or  I  will  promise  to  marry  you  a 
year  from  to-day,  even  if  we  have  to  live  on  bread  and 
water.  Indeed  I  will !  But,  at  least,  be  a  little  cau 
tious  !  It  will  be  far  better  to  marry  on  your  pay  — 
and  you  will  surely  get  your  captaincy  in  a  few  months 
—  than  to  be  stranded  without  even  that,  in  case  you 
do  not  find  the  work  you  hope  for.  Don't  you  see?  I 
am  sure  it  is  good  advice.' 

Giovanni  knew  that  it  was,  if  caution  were  ever  worth 
practising  in  human  affairs;  but  that  has  often  been 
doubted  by  brave  and  light-hearted  men.  Giovanni 
yielded  a  little  reluctantly.  If  she  had  asked  him  to  make 
it  two  months  instead  of  one,  he  would  have  refused,  for 
it  seemed  to  him  intolerable  to  lose  a  moment  between 
decision  and  action,  and  his  thoughts  doubled  their 
stride  with  every  step,  in  a  geometrical  progression;  a 
moment  hence,  a  minute  would  be  an  hour,  an  hour  a 
month,  a  month  a  lifetime.  Men  have  won  battles  in 
that  temper;  but  it  has  sometimes  cost  them  their  life. 

'I  know  you  are  sensible,'  Giovanni  said,  taking  An 
gela's  hand  between  his,  'but  it  is  to  please  you  that  I 
agree  to  wait  a  month.  It  is  not  because  it  looks  wise, 
as  it  does.  For  one  man  who  succeeds  by  wisdom,  ten 
win  by  daring.  Who  knows  what  may  chance  in  a 
month,  or  what  may  happen  to  put  out  of  reach  what  I 
could  do  to-day  ? ' 


66  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'  Nothing!' 

Angela  gave  her  answer  with  the  delicious  little 
smile  of  superiority  which  the  youngest  woman  and 
even  the  merest  girl  can  wear,  when  she  is  sure  that  she 
is  right  and  that  the  man  she  loves  is  wrong.  It  may  be 
only  about  sewing  on  a  button,  or  about  the  weather,  or 
it  may  concern  great  issues;  but  it  is  always  the  same 
when  it  comes:  it  exasperates  weak  men,  and  the 
stronger  sort  like  it,  as  they  more  especially  delight  in  all 
that  is  womanly  in  woman,  from  heroic  virtue  to  pa 
thetic  weakness. 

'  Nothing  can  happen  in  a  month  to  prevent  you  from 
resigning  then,  as  you  could  to-day/  Angela  said  con 
fidently. 

The  faint  smile  disappeared,  and  she  grew  thoughtful, 
not  for  herself,  but  for  him,  and  looked  at  Saint  Ursula 
again.  Her  hand  still  lay  in  his,  on  the  edge  of  the 
mantelpiece,  and  while  she  gazed  at  the  engraving  she 
knew  that  he  was  looking  at  her  and  was  moving  nearer ; 
she  felt  that  he  was  going  to  kiss  her,  but  she  did  not 
resist  this  time  though  the  colour  was  rising  in  her 
throat,  and  just  under  the  exquisitely  shaped  petal  of 
peach-blossom  on  which  his  eyes  were  fixed,  and  which 
was  really  only  the  tip  of  her  ear,  though  it  was  so  like 
the  leaf  of  a  flower  that  the  scent  of  the  bloom  came  to 
his  memory  when  his  lips  touched  the  spot  at  last. 

His  hand  shut  closer  over  hers  at  the  same  moment, 
and  hers  fluttered  under  his  fingers  like  a  small  soft  bird ; 
but  there  was  no  resistance.  He  kissed  the  tip  of  her 
ear,  and  she  turned  towards  him  a  little ;  his  kiss  pressed 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  67 

her  cool  cheek,  and  she  moved  again;  their  eyes  met, 
very  near,  and  dark,  and  full  of  light,  and  then  his  lips 
touched  hers  at  last. 

Destiny  has  many  disguises  and  many  moods.  Some 
times,  as  on  that  day  at  the  telephone,  the  unexpected 
leaps  up  from  its  hiding-place  and  strikes  stunning  blows, 
right  and  left,  like  Orestes  among  the  steers  in  Tauris,  or 
a  maniac  let  loose  among  sane  men ;  but  sometimes  Fate 
lurks  in  her  lair,  silently  poring  over  the  tablets  of  the 
future,  and  she  notes  all  we  say,  scrawling  ' Folly' 
against  our  wisest  speeches,  and  stamping  'So  be  it7 
under  the  carelessly  spoken  jest. 

She  was  busy  while  the  young  lovers  kissed  for  the 
first  time,  by  the  mantelpiece;  but  no  inward  warning 
voice  had  told  Angela  that  she  herself  was  sealing  the 
order  of  her  life  irrevocably  when  she  gave  Giovanni  the 
best  advice  she  could,  and  he  accepted  it  to  please  her, 
making  his  instinct  obey  his  judgment  for  her  sake.  A 
man  is  foolish  who  takes  an  important  step  without 
consulting  the  woman  who  loves  him  most  dearly,  be 
she  mother,  sister,  wife,  or  sweetheart;  but  he  is  rarely 
wise  if  he  follows  her  advice,  like  a  rule,  to  the  letter, 
for  no  woman  goes  from  thought  to  accomplishment 
by  the  same  road  as  a  man.  You  cannot  make  a  pointer 
of  a  setter,  nor  teach  a  bulldog  to  retrieve. 

If  Giovanni  had  sent  in  his  resignation  that  evening, 
or  even  during  the  next  day,  as  he  was  ready  to  do,  it 
would  have  been  accepted  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
things;  he  would  then,  without  doubt,  have  found  em 
ployment  for  his  talents  and  energy,  either  at  home  or 


68  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

abroad.  He  would  in  all  probability  have  succeeded  in 
life,  because  he  possessed  the  elements  of  success;  he 
would  have  married  Angela  in  due  time,  and  the  two 
would  probably  have  lived  happily  for  many  years, 
because  they  were  suited  to  each  other  in  all  ways  and 
were  possessed  of  excellent  constitutions.  If  all  this 
had  happened,  their  story  would  have  little  interest 
except  for  themselves,  or  as  an  example  to  young 
couples;  and  it  is  a  deplorable  fact  that  there  is  hardly 
anything  so  dull  and  tiresome  in  the  world  as  a  good 
example.  The  hoardings  along  life's  dusty  roads  are 
plentifully  plastered  with  good  examples,  in  every  stage 
of  preservation,  from  those  just  fresh  from  the  moral 
bill-poster's  roll,  redolent  of  paste,  to  the  good  old 
ones  that  are  peeling  off  in  tatters,  as  if  in  sheer  despair 
because  nobody  has  ever  stopped  to  look  at  them.  May 
the  gods  of  literature  keep  all  good  story-tellers  from 
concocting  advertisements  of  the  patent  virtues! 

The  most  important  and  decisive  moment  in  Angela's 
life,  from  its  beginning  to  its  end,  had  passed  so  quietly 
that  she  never  suspected  its  presence,  and  almost  the 
very  next  instant  brought  her  the  first  kiss  of  the  only 
man  she  had  ever  loved,  or  was  to  love  thereafter. 


CHAPTER  V 

MADAME  BERNARD  had  not  overstated  the  advantages 
of  the  lodging  she  occasionally  let  to  foreign  ladies  who 
travelled  alone  and  practised  economy,  and  Angela 
refused  to  occupy  it  till  she  had  satisfied  herself  that  her 
old  governess's  own  room  was  just  as  large  and  just  as 
sunny  and  just  as  comfortable. 

In  the  first  place,  it  was  much  bigger  than  she  had 
expected,  and  when  she  had  spread  out  all  her  posses 
sions  and  put  away  her  clothes,  and  had  arranged  her 
pretty  toilet  set  and  the  few  books  that  were  quite  her 
own,  she  found  that  she  was  not  at  all  cramped  for  space. 
The  ceiling  was  not  very  high,  it  was  true,  and  there  was 
only  one  window,  but  it  was  a  very  wide  one,  and  out 
side  it  there  was  a  broad  iron  shelf  securely  fixed,  on 
which  four  good-sized  flower-pots  were  set  out  in  the 
sunshine.  It  was  true  that  there  were  no  flowers  yet, 
but  the  two  plants  of  carnations  were  full  of  buds  and 
had  been  very  carefully  tended,  a  tiny  rose-bush  prom 
ised  to  bear  three  or  four  blossoms  before  long,  and  the 
pot  of  basil  was  beginning  to  send  up  curly  green  shoots. 
Opposite  the  window,  and  beyond  the  quiet  street,  there 
was  a  walled  garden,  in  which  there  were  some  orange 
and  mandarin  trees. 

Between  the  two  bedrooms  there  was  the  sitting- 
room,  which  was  a  little  smaller  than  either,  but  quite 

69 


70  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

big  enough  for  two  women.  Indeed,  Madame  Bernard 
ate  her  meals  there  all  winter,  because  the  little  dining- 
room  at  the  back  of  the  house  was  not  so  cheerful  and 
was  much  colder.  An  enlarged  coloured  photograph  of 
the  long-deceased  Captain  Bernard,  in  the  uniform 
worn  by  the  French  artillery  at  the  time  of  the  Franco- 
Prussian  War,  hung  on  one  of  the  walls,  over  an  upright 
piano;  it  had  a  black  frame,  and  was  decorated  with  a 
wreath  of  everlasting  daisies  tied  with  a  black  bow. 
Underneath  the  portrait  a  tiny  holy-water  basin  of  old 
Tyrol ese  pewter  was  fastened  to  the  wall.  This  Madame 
Bernard  filled  every  year  at  Easter,  when  the  parish 
priest  came  to  bless  the  rooms,  and  every  year  she  re 
newed  the  wreath  on  the  anniversary  of  her  husband's 
death;  for  she  was  a  faithful  soul  and  practised  such 
little  rites  with  a  sort  of  cheerful  satisfaction  that  was 
not  exactly  devout,  but  certainly  had  a  religious  source. 
Captain  Bernard  had  been  a  dashing  fellow  and  there 
was  no  knowing  what  his  soul  might  not  need  in  the  place 
his  widow  vaguely  described  as  '  beyond '  when  she  spoke 
of  his  presumable  state,  though  in  the  case  of  Angela's 
father,  for  instance,  it  was  always  'heaven '  or  ' paradise/ 
Apparently  Madame  Bernard  had  the  impression  that 
her  husband's  immortal  part  was  undergoing  some  very 
necessary  cure  before  partaking  of  unmixed  bliss. 

'Military  men  have  so  many  temptations,  my  dear/ 
she  said  to  Angela,  thinking  more  of  the  deceased  Cap 
tain  than  of  being  tactful,  —  'I  mean,'  she  said,  correct 
ing  herself,  'in  France.' 

Angela  was  not  afraid  of  temptation  for  Giovanni; 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  71 

rightly  or  wrongly,  she  trusted  that  her  love  would  be  his 
shield  against  the  wicked  world  and  her  name  his  prayer 
in  need,  and  she  smiled  at  Madame  Bernard's  speech. 
The  big  old  parrot  on  his  perch  cocked  his  head. 

'  Especially  the  cavalry  and  artillery/  the  good  lady 
went  on  to  explain. 

'A  drrroite  —  conversion!'  roared  the  parrot  in  a 
terrific  voice  of  command. 

Angela  jumped  in  her  chair,  for  it  was  the  first  time 
she  had  heard  the  creature  speak  in  that  tone;  but 
Madame  Bernard  laughed,  as  if  it  pleased  her. 

'It  is  absolutely  my  poor  husband's  tone/  she  said 
calmly.  'Coco,'  she  said,  turning  to  the  bellicose  bird, 
'the  Prussians  are  there!' 

'  Feu ! '  yelled  the  parrot  suddenly,  dancing  with 
rage  on  his  bar.  'Feu!  'ere  nom  d'un  nom  d'un  p'tit 
bon  Dieu ! ' 

1  Every  intonation ! '  laughed  the  little  Frenchwoman 
gaily.  '  You  understand  why  I  love  my  Coco ! ' 

But  Angela  thought  there  was  something  grimly 
horrible  in  the  coming  back  of  the  dead  soldier's  voice 
from  battles  fought  long  ago. 

Giovanni  came  to  see  her  two  days  after  she  had 
moved,  but  this  time  Madame  Bernard  did  not  leave 
them  together  very  long.  She  had  a  lively  sense  of  her 
responsibility,  now  that  the  young  girl  was  altogether  in 
her  charge,  and  she  felt  that  the  proprieties  must  be 
strictly  observed.  It  must  never  be  thought  that 
Giovanni  was  free  to  see  Angela  alone  whenever  he 
pleased,  merely  because  her  people  had  turned  her  out. 


72  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

He  looked  distressed,  and  the  young  girl  at  once 
suspected  some  new  trouble ;  and  she  was  not  mistaken, 
for  her  advice  had  begun  to  bear  fruit  already,  and  the 
inevitable  was  closing  in  upon  them  both. 

He  told  the  story  in  a  few  words.  It  had  been  de 
cided  in  the  War  Office  for  some  time  that  a  small 
exploring  and  surveying  expedition  should  be  sent  up 
the  country  from  the  Italian  colony  at  Massowah  with 
the  idea  of  planning  some  permanent  means  of  inland 
communication  with  the  British  possessions.  Giovan 
ni's  father  had  seen  a  chance  for  him  to  distinguish  him 
self  and  to  obtain  more  rapid  promotion,  and  by  using 
all  the  considerable  influence  he  possessed  in  high 
quarters  he  had  got  him  appointed  to  be  the  engineering 
officer  of  the  party.  The  young  man  had  already  been 
two  years  in  Africa,  before  being  appointed  to  the  Staff, 
and  had  done  exceptionally  good  service,  which  was  an 
excellent  reason  for  using  him  again;  and  chance  further 
favoured  the  plan,  because  the  officer  who  had  first  been 
selected  for  the  place,  and  who  was  an  older  man,  was 
much  needed  in  the  War  Office,  to  his  own  exceeding 
disgust.  The  expedition  might  be  attended  with  con 
siderable  danger  and  would  certainly  be  full  of  adven 
ture,  for  there  had  recently  been  trouble  with  the  tribes 
in  that  very  region;  but  to  send  a  strong  force  was  out 
of  the  question,  for  political  reasons,  though  the  work  to 
be  done  was  so  urgently  necessary  that  it  could  not  be 
put  off  much  longer. 

Old  General  Severi  sincerely  hoped  Angela  might  yet 
marry  his  son,  and  was  convinced  that  the  best  thing  pos- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  73 

sible  would  be  to  secure  for  the  latter  the  first  opportunity 
for  quick  promotion,  instead  of  allowing  him  to  leave  the 
army  in  order  to  find  more  lucrative  employment.  The 
expedition  would  be  gone  five  or  six  months,  perhaps, 
and  there  were  many  reasons  why  it  would  be  better  to 
keep  the  young  people  apart  for  a  time.  Any  one  would 
understand  that,  he  was  sure.  While  Angela  was  living 
obscurely  with  a  former  governess,  a  brilliant  young 
officer  of  some  distinction,  like  Giovanni,  could  not  see 
her  regularly  without  seriously  compromising  her.  It 
was  the  way  of  the  world  and  could  not  be  helped,  yet 
if  Giovanni  stayed  in  Rome  it  would  be  too  much  to  ex 
pect  that  he  should  stay  away  from  the  little  apartment  in 
Trastevere.  So  the  matter  was  settled,  and  when  he  came 
to  see  Angela  that  afternoon  he  had  just  had  an  interview 
with  his  chief,  who  had  informed  him  of  his  appointment, 
and  at  the  same  time  of  his  promotion  to  be  captain. 
The  expedition  was  to  leave  Italy  in  a  few  days,  and  he 
would  have  barely  time  to  provide  himself  with  what 
was  strictly  necessary  for  the  climate.  He  explained 
all  this  to  Angela  and  Madame  Bernard. 

'If  you  had  only  let  me  resign  the  other  day/  he  said 
ruefully,  when  he  had  finished  his  account,  '  nobody 
could  have  found  fault  then !  But  now,  I  must  face  the 
laugh  of  every  man  I  know  ! ' 

Angela  looked  up  quickly,  in  evident  surprise. 

'Why?'  she  asked.  'I  see  nothing  to  laugh  at  in 
such  an  expedition/ 

'I  am  not  going  to  accept  the  appointment/  Giovanni 
answered  with  decision.  '  I  asked  for  twenty-four  hours 


74  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

to  consider  it,  though  the  General  seemed  very  much 
surprised/ 

'But  you  cannot  refuse!'  Angela  cried.  'They  will 
say  you  are  afraid!' 

'They  may  say  whatever  occurs  to  them,  for  I  will  not 
go,  and  I  shall  resign  at  once,  as  I  said  I  would.  My 
mind  is  made  up.' 

'You  cannot  refuse  this,'  Angela  repeated  confidently. 
'  If  you  are  obliged  to  admit  that  there  is  some  danger  in 
it,  though  you  wish  there  were  none,  because  you  safely 
could  refuse  to  go,  it  must  be  very  dangerous  indeed. 
Tell  me  the  truth,  as  far  as  you  know  it.' 

'It  would  depend  on  circumstances '  Giovanni 

hesitated. 

'You  have  told  me  that  if  the  Government  dared,  it 
would  send  a  large  force  to  protect  the  expedition.  The 
larger  that  force  would  be,  the  greater  the  danger  if 
there  is  no  protection  at  all.  Is  that  true,  or  not?' 

'  It  is  true,  in  one  way,  but  — 

'There  is  no  condition!'  Angela  interrupted  him 
energetically.  '  It  is  enough  that  it  is  going  to  be  dan 
gerous  in  one  way,  as  you  say  ! ' 

'No  one  can  say  that  I  ever  avoided  danger  before,' 
he  objected. 

'They  will  say  many  things  if  you  refuse  to  go.  They 
will  shrug  their  shoulders  and  say  that  you  have  lost 
your  nerve,  perhaps !  That  is  a  favourite  expression, 
and  you  know  how  people  say  it.  Or  if  you  make  money 
soon  after  you  resign,  they  will  say  that  you  preferred  a 
fortune  to  risking  your  life  for  your  country.  Or  else 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  75 

they  will  say  that  a  woman  has  made  a  coward  of  you, 
and  that  I  am  she  ! ' 

'Co ward !'  yelled  the  parrot  in  a  tone  of  withering 
contempt,  and  the  creature  actually  spat  in  disgust. 

Giovanni  started  violently,  for  he  had  not  noticed  the 
bird  in  the  room.  Then  he  tried  to  laugh  at  his  own 
surprise. 

'I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  surprised,  Monsieur/ 
said  Madame  Bernard  with  a  pleasant  smile.  'Oh, 
Coco  has  exactly  my  poor  husband's  voice!' 

'I  can  brave  a  parrot's  opinion/  Giovanni  said,  at 
tempting  to  speak  gaily. 

'Will  you  brave  mine?'   Angela  asked. 

'You  certainly  do  not  think  I  am  afraid  to  go/  he 
answered,  'for  you  know  why  I  mean  to  refuse.  My 
first  duty  is  to  you.  As  I  am  placed,  it  would  be  cow 
ardly  to  be  afraid  to  face  public  opinion  in  doing  that 
duty,  and  to  keep  you  waiting  six  months  or  a  year 
longer  than  necessary,  when  I  have  promised  to  provide 
means  for  us  to  marry  within  a  year.  That  would  de 
serve  to  be  called  cowardice!' 

'Sale  Prussien!  'ere  nom  d'une  pipe !'  yelled  Coco  in 
a  tone  of  disgust. 

'Really!'  exclaimed  Giovanni,  with  some  annoyance. 
'Does  the  thing  take  me  for  an  hereditary  enemy, 
Madame  ? ' 

Madame  Bernard  rose  with  a  little  laugh  and  went  to 
the  parrot's  perch,  holding  out  her  hand. 

'  Come,  Coco ! '  she  said,  coaxing  him.  '  It  is  peace 
now,  and  we  can  go  home  to  Paris  again.' 


76  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'Paris*  meant  her  bedroom  in  bird  language;  it  also 
meant  being  bribed  to  be  quiet  with  good  things,  and 
Coco  strutted  from  his  perch  to  her  finger. 

'  Marche ! '  he  commanded  in  a  sharp  tone,  and  as  she 
moved  he  began  to  whistle  the  Marseillaise  with  great 
spirit. 

She  marched  off,  laughing  and  keeping  step  to  the 
tune  till  she  disappeared  into  her  room,  shutting  the  door 
behind  her.  As  it  closed  Giovanni  caught  Angela's  left 
hand  and  drew  it  to  him.  She  laid  her  right  on  his, 
quietly  and  affectionately. 

'Am  I  never  to  see  you  alone ?'  he  asked,  almost  in  a 
whisper. 

'When  you  come  to  say  good-bye  before  starting/ 
Angela  answered.  '  I  will  ask  her  to  leave  us  quite  alone 
then.  But  now  it  will  only  be  for  a  minute  or  two.' 

Thereupon,  with  the  most  natural  movement  in  the 
world,  she  lifted  her  hands,  brought  his  face  close  to  hers 
and  kissed  him,  drew  back  a  little,  looked  gravely  into 
his  astonished  eyes  for  some  seconds,  and  then  kissed 
him  again. 

'I  love  you  much  more  than  you  love  me/  she  said 
with  great  seriousness.  'I  am  sure  of  it.' 

It  was  all  very  different  from  what  he  had  expected. 
He  had  vaguely  fancied  that  for  a  long  time  every  kiss 
would  have  to  be  won  from  her  by  a  little  struggle,  and 
that  every  admission  of  her  love  would  be  the  reward  of 
his  own  eloquence;  instead,  she  took  the  lead  herself 
with  a  simplicity  that  touched  him  more  than  anything 
else  could  have  done. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  77 

'You  see  V  she  cried,  with  the  intonation  of  a  laugh 
not  far  away.  'I  took  you  by  surprise,  because  I  am 
right  about  it !  What  have  you  to  say  ? ' 

He  said  nothing,  but  his  lips  hurt  hers  a  little  in  the 
silence.  She  shivered  slightly,  for  she  had  not  yet 
dreamed  that  a  kiss  could  hurt  and  yet  be  too  short. 
The  sound  of  Madame  Bernard's  voice  came  from  the 
next  room,  still  talking  to  the  parrot.  Angela  laid  her 
hand  on  Giovanni's  gold-laced  sleeve  and  nestled  beside 
him,  with  her  head  in  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder. 

'I  have  always  wanted  to  do  this/  she  said  in  a  drowsy 
little  voice,  as  if  she  wished  she  could  go  to  sleep  where 
she  was.  '  It  is  my  place.  When  you  are  away  in  Africa, 
at  night,  under  the  stars,  you  will  dream  that  I  am  just 
here,  resting  in  my  very  own  place/ 

She  felt  his  warm  breath  in  her  hair  as  he  answered. 

'I  will  not  go;  I  will  not  leave  you.' 

'  But  you  must,'  she  said,  quickly  straightening  herself 
and  looking  into  his  face.  1 1  should  not  love  you  as  I  do, 
if  I  could  bear  to  think  of  your  staying  here,  to  let  men 
laugh  at  you,  as  you  say  they  would !' 

'It  is  not  like  resigning  on  the  day  after  war  is  de 
clared  ! '  he  retorted,  trying  to  speak  lightly. 

1  It  is ! '  she  cried,  with  a  sort  of  eager  anxiety  in  her 
voice.  '  There  is  only  a  difference  in  the  degree  —  and 
perhaps  it  is  worse !  If  there  were  war,  you  would  be 
one  man  in  a  hundred  thousand,  but  now  you  will  be 
one  in  ten  or  twenty,  or  as  many  as  are  to  go.  Think 
what  it  would  be  if  you  were  the  only  man  in  Italy,  the 
one,  single,  only  officer  who  could  certainly  accomplish 


78  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

something  very  dangerous  to  help  your  country  —  and 
if  you  refused  to  do  it ! ' 

'There  are  hundreds  of  better  men  than  I  for  the  work/ 
objected  Giovanni. 

'I  doubt  it.  Are  there  hundreds  of  engineer  officers 
on  the  General  Staff  ?' 

1  No,  but  there  are  plenty ' 

'A  score,  perhaps,  and  you  have  been  chosen,  no  matter 
why,  and  there  is  danger,  and  there  is  a  great  thing  to 
be  done,  perhaps  a  great  good,  which  in  the  end  will  save 
the  lives,  or  help  the  lives,  of  many  Italians !  And  you 
want  to  refuse  to  do  it  —  for  what  ?  For  a  woman,  for 
a  girl  you  love!  Do  you  think  she  will  love  you  the 
more,  or  less,  for  keeping  out  of  danger,  if  she  is  a  true 
Italian,  as  she  thinks  you  are  ?  Why  is  it  that  our  Italy, 
which  no  one  thought  much  of  a  few  years  ago,  is  coming 
to  the  front  in  so  many  ways  now  ?  It  was  not  by  stay 
ing  at  home  for  women's  sake  that  our  sailors  have  got 
nearer  the  North  Pole  than  all  the  others  who  have  tried ! 
It  is  not  by  avoiding  danger  that  our  officers  are  learning 
to  astonish  everybody  with  their  riding - 

'That  is  different/  objected  Giovanni.  'It  is  one 
thing  to  do  daring  things  — 

'Yes/  interrupted  Angela,  not  letting  him  speak,  'it 
is  the  one  and  only  thing,  when  it  is  good  daring  and  can 
bring  good,  and  helps  the  world  to  see  that  Italy  is  not 
dead  yet,  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  said  and  written 
against  us  and  our  unity.  No,  no,  I  say !  Go,  do  your 
duty,  do  and  dare,  wherever  and  howsoever  your  country 
needs  you,  and  I  will  wait  for  you,  and  be  glad  to  wait 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  79 

for  that  one  reason,  which  is  the  best  of  all.  If  you  love 
me  half  as  dearly  as  I  love  you,  go  back  at  once  and  tell 
your  chief  that  you  are  ready,  and  are  proud  to  be  used 
wherever  you  can  be  of  any  use !  And  if  there  is  danger 
to  be  faced,  think  that  you  are  to  face  it  for  my  sake  as 
well  as  for  Italy's,  and  not  in  spite  of  me,  for  I  would 
ten  thousand  times  rather  that  you  should  die  in  doing 
your  duty  —  ever  so  obscurely  —  than  stay  here  to  be 
called  a  coward  in  order  that  we  may  be  rich  when  we 
marry!' 

Giovanni  listened,  more  and  more  surprised  at  her 
energy  and  quick  flow  of  words,  but  glad  at  heart  that 
she  was  urging  him  to  do  what  was  right  and  honourable. 

'  It  was  for  you  that  I  meant  to  stay/  he  said.  '  Hard 
as  it  is  to  leave  you,  it  would  have  been  harder  to  refuse 
the  appointment.  I  will  go/ 

A  little  silence  followed,  and  Madame  Bernard,  no 
longer  hearing  their  voices,  and  having  said  everything 
she  had  to  say  to  her  parrot,  judged  that  it  was  time  for 
her  to  come  back  and  play  chaperon  again.  She  was 
careful  to  make  a  good  deal  of  noise  with  the  latch  before 
she  opened  the  door. 

'Well,  Monsieur,'  she  asked,  on  the  threshold,  'has 
Donna  Angela  persuaded  you  that  she  is  right  ?  I  heard 
her  making  a  great  speech ! ' 

'She  is  a  firebrand/  laughed  Giovanni,  'and  a  good 
patriot  as  well !  She  ought  to  be  in  Parliament.' 

'You  are  a  feminist,  I  perceive/  answered  Madame 
Bernard.  'But  Joan  of  Arc  would  be  in  the  Chambers 
if  she  could  come  back  to  this  world.  The  people  would 


80  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

elect  her,  she  would  present  herself  in  the  tribune,  and 
she  would  say,  "Aha,  messieurs!  Here  I  am!  We 
shall  talk,  you  and  I."  And  our  little  Donna  Angela 
is  a  sort  of  Joan  of  Arc.  People  do  not  know  it,  but  I  do, 
for  I  have  often  heard  her  make  beautiful  speeches,  as  if 
she  were  inspired!* 

'It  takes  no  inspiration  to  see  what  is  right/  Angela 
said,  shaking  her  head.  'The  only  difficulty  is  to  do  it ! ' 

'  Even  that  is  easy  when  you  lead/  Giovanni  answered 
thoughtfully,  and  without  the  least  intention  of  flattering 
her. 

He  had  seen  a  side  of  her  character  of  which  he  had 
not  even  suspected  the  existence,  and  there  was  some 
thing  about  it  so  large  and  imposing  that  he  was  secretly 
a  little  ashamed  of  feeling  less  strong  than  she  seemed. 
In  two  successive  meetings  he  had  come  to  her  with  his 
own  mind  made  up,  but  in  a  few  moments  she  had  talked 
him  over  to  her  point  of  view  without  the  least  apparent 
difficulty,  and  had  sent  him  away  fully  determined  to  do 
the  very  opposite  of  that  which  he  had  previously  de 
cided  to  do.  It  was  a  strange  experience  for  a  young 
man  of  great  energy  and  distinctly  exceptional  intelli 
gence,  and  he  did  not  understand  it. 

He  stayed  barely  half-an-hour,  for  Madame  Bernard 
showed  no  disposition  to  leave  the  room  again,  and  he 
felt  the  difficulty  of  keeping  up  an  indifferent  conversa 
tion  in  her  presence,  as  well  as  the  impossibility  of  talking 
freely  to  Angela  of  what  was  uppermost  in  her  thoughts 
and  his  own.  It  was  true  that  the  governess  knew  all 
about  it,  and  there  are  excellent  women  of  that  sort 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  81 

whose  presence  does  not  always  hinder  lovers  from  dis 
cussing  their  future;  but  either  Madame  Bernard  was 
not  one  of  these  by  nature,  or  else  the  two  felt  the  differ 
ence  of  her  nationality  too  much.  The  French  are  per 
haps  the  only  civilised  nation  whom  no  people  of  other 
nations  can  thoroughly  understand,  and  who,  with  very 
few  individual  exceptions,  do  not  understand  any  people 
but  themselves.  They  have  a  way  of  looking  at  life 
which  surprises  and  sometimes  amuses  men  of  all  other 
nationalities;  they  take  some  matters  very  seriously 
which  seem  of  trivial  consequence  to  us,  but  they  are 
witty  at  the  expense  of  certain  simple  feelings  and  im 
pulses  which  we  gravely  regard  as  fundamentally  impor 
tant,  if  not  sacred.  They  can  be  really  and  truly  heroic, 
to  the  point  of  risking  life  and  limb  and  happiness,  about 
questions  at  which  we  snap  our  fingers,  but  they  can  be 
almost  insolently  practical,  in  the  sense  of  feeling  no 
emotion  while  keenly  discerning  their  own  interest,  in 
situations  where  our  tempers  or  our  prejudices  would 
rouse  us  to  recklessness.  In  their  own  estimation  they 
are  always  right,  and  so  are  we  in  ours,  no  doubt;  but 
whereas  they  consider  themselves  the  Chosen  People 
and  us  the  Gentiles,  or  compare  themselves  with  us  as 
the  Greeks  compared  themselves  with  the  Barbarians, 
we,  on  our  side,  do  not  look  down  upon  their  art  and 
literature  as  they  undoubtedly  do  on  ours,  and  a  good 
many  of  us  are  rather  too  ready  to  accept  them  as  some 
thing  more  than  our  equals  in  both.  When  I  say  'we/ 
I  do  not  mean  only  English-speaking  people,  but  other 
Europeans  also.  I  have  overheard  Frenchmen  discussing 


82  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

all  sorts  of  things  in  trains,  on  steamers,  in  picture-gal 
leries,  in  libraries,  in  the  streets,  from  Tiflis  to  London 
and  from  London  to  the  Pacific,  but  I  have  never  yet 
heard  Frenchmen  admit  among  themselves  that  a  modern 
work  of  art,  or  book,  or  play  was  really  first-rate,  if  it 
was  not  French.  There  is  something  monumental  in 
their  conviction  of  their  own  superiority,  and  I  sincerely 
believe  it  has  had  much  to  do  with  their  success,  as  a 
nation,  in  the  arts  of  peace  as  well  as  in  war.  A  man 
who  is  honestly  convinced  that  he  is  better  than  his 
opponent  is  not  easily  put  down  in  peaceful  competition, 
and  will  risk  his  life  in  action  with  a  gallantry  and  daring 
that  command  the  admiration  of  all  brave  men ;  and  it 
is  a  singular  fact  that  German  soldiers  did  not  call  French 
men  cowards  after  the  great  war,  whereas  it  was  a  very 
common  thing  to  hear  Frenchmen  inveigh  against '  those 
dirty,  cowardly  Prussians'  who  had  got  the  better  of 
them.  Men  who  can  take  such  a  point  of  view  as  that 
must  be  utterly  unlike  other  people. 

This  little  digression  should  explain  why  Angela  and 
Madame  Bernard  never  quite  understood  each  other, 
in  spite  of  the  elder  woman's  almost  motherly  love  for 
the  girl  and  the  latter's  devoted  gratitude. 

They  talked  about  Giovanni  when  he  was  gone,  of 
course,  but  neither  said  all  she  thought  about  him,  be 
cause  she  feared  that  the  other  would  think  a  little 
differently.  The  cheerful  Frenchwoman  had  gone 
through  life  with  the  belief  that  it  is  better,  on  the  whole, 
to  make  oneself  comfortable  in  this  world,  if  it  can  be 
managed  on  honest  principles,  than  to  worry  oneself 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  83 

about  heroics,  and  in  the  calm  recesses  of  her  practical 
little  soul  she  was  sure  that,  in  Angela's  place,  she  would 
have  told  Giovanni  to  resign  as  soon  as  possible  and  find 
some  pleasant  and  well-paid  occupation  for  his  married 
life.  All  Angela's  talk  about  a  man's  duty  to  his  country 
would  be  very  well  in  time  of  war,  when  there  was  glory 
to  be  got ;  but  it  was  nonsense  in  ordinary  times,  where 
one  man  would  do  as  well  as  another,  to  risk  his  life  in  a 
small  expedition,  and  when  it  was  distinctly  advisable 
not  to  be  that  one.  But  she  knew  also  that  she  had 
better  not  try  to  explain  this  to  Angela,  who  was  evi 
dently  a  little  mad  on  the  point,  most  probably  because 
she  was  an  Italian.  For  Italians,  Germans,  Spaniards, 
Englishmen,  and  Americans  were  all  completely  insane; 
there  was  some  little  hope  for  Austrians  and  a  good  deal 
for  Russians,  in  Madame  Bernard's  opinion,  but  there 
was  none  for  the  rest,  though  they  might  be  very  nice 
people.  The  safest  thing  was  to  humour  them.  She 
had  given  lessons  in  Roman  families  that  were  half 
Austrian  and  even  half  Russian,  for  the  Romans  have 
always  been  very  cosmopolitan  in  their  marriages,  but 
Angela  was  quite  Italian  on  both  sides,  and  so  was 
Giovanni.  It  was  therefore  pretty  certain  that  they 
would  behave  like  lunatics,  sooner  or  later,  the  good 
lady  thought;  and  they  apparently  were  beginning 
already. 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  long  on  what  followed,  since 
what  has  been  narrated  so  far  is  only  the  introduction 
to  Angela's  story  and  the  exposition  of  the  circumstances 
which  determined  her  subsequent  life.  As  in  most  cases, 


84  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

it  happened  in  hers  that  the  greatest  events  were  the 
direct  consequences  of  one  very  small  beginning.  If 
she  had  not  urged  Giovanni  to  wait  some  time  before 
leaving  the  army,  he  would  not  have  been  obliged  to 
remain  in  the  service  almost  as  a  matter  of  honour,  yet 
it  had  seemed  very  sensible  to  advise  him  to  do  nothing 
in  a  hurry.  Everything  else  followed  logically  upon  that 
first  step.  • 

It  was  the  inevitable,  and  it  was  therefore  already  in 
nature  tragic,  before  active  tragedy  took  the  stage.  Yet 
Angela  did  not  feel  its  presence,  nor  any  presentiment 
of  the  future,  when  she  bade  Giovanni  farewell  ten  days 
after  he  had  first  been  to  see  her  in  Madame  Bernard's 
apartment. 

What  she  felt  was  just  the  common  pain  of  parting 
that  has  been  the  lot  of  loving  men  and  women  since  the 
beginning ;  it  is  not  the  less  sharp  because  almost  every 
one  has  felt  it,  but  it  is  as  useless  to  describe  it  as  it  would 
be  to  write  a  chapter  about  a  bad  toothache,  a  sick  head 
ache,  or  an  attack  of  gout.  Angela  was  a  brave  girl  and 
set  herself  the  task  of  bearing  it  quietly  because  it  was  a 
natural  and  healthy  consequence  of  loving  dearly.  It 
was  not  like  the  wrench  of  saying  good-bye  to  a  lover  on 
his  way  to  meet  almost  certain  death.  She  told  herself, 
and  Giovanni  told  her,  that  in  all  probability  he  was  not 
going  to  encounter  any  danger  worse  than  may  chance 
in  a  day's  hunting  over  a  rough  country  or  in  a  steeple 
chase,  and  that  the  risk  was  certainly  far  less  than  that 
of  fighting  a  duel  in  Italy,  where  duelling  is  not  a  farce 
as  it  is  in  some  countries.  He  would  come  back  within 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  85 

a  few  months,  with  considerable  credit  and  the  certainty 
of  promotion;  it  was  a  hundred  to  one  that  he  would, 
so  that  this  was  merely  a  common  parting,  to  be  borne 
without  complaint.  He  thought  so  himself,  and  they 
consoled  each  other  by  making  plans  for  their  married 
life,  which  would  be  so  much  nearer  when  he  came  home. 

Madame  Bernard  left  them  alone  for  an  hour  in  the 
sitting-room  and  then  came  in  to  say  good-bye  to 
Giovanni  herself,  bringing  Coco  perched  upon  her  wrist, 
but  silent  and  well-behaved.  Angela  was  pale,  and  per 
haps  her  deep  mourning  made  her  look  paler  than  she 
was,  but  her  face  was  as  quiet  and  collected  as  Gio 
vanni's.  He  took  leave  of  the  governess  almost  affec 
tionately. 

'Take  care  of  her,  Madame/  he  said,  'and  write  me 
some  news  of  her  now  and  then  through  the  War  Office. 
It  may  reach  me,  or  it  may  not ! ' 

He  kissed  Angela's  hand,  looked  into  her  eyes  silently 
for  a  moment,  and  went  out. 

'  Marche  !  'ere  nom  d'un  nom  ! '  screamed  the  parrot 
after  him,  as  if  he  were  going  too  slowly. 

But  this  time  Angela  could  not  speak  of  him  with 
her  friend  just  after  he  was  gone,  and  when  Madame 
Bernard  tried  to  talk  of  other  things  with  the  idea  of 
diverting  her  attention,  she  went  and  shut  herself  up  in 
her  own  room.  It  was  distracting  to  know  that  he 
was  still  in  Rome,  and  that  until  nearly  midnight,  when 
the  train  left  for  Naples,  it  would  be  possible  to  see  him 
once  more.  If  she  had  insisted,  Madame  Bernard  would 
have  consented  to  go  with  her  in  a  cab  to  find  him.  It 


SO  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

was  hard  to  resist,  as  she  sat  by  the  window,  listening  to 
the  distant  sound  of  wheels  in  the  street ;  it  was  the  first 
great  temptation  she  had  ever  felt  in  her  life,  and  as  she 
faced  it  she  was  surprised  at  its  strength.  But  she  would 
not  yield.  In  her  own  gentle  womanliness  she  found 
something  she  recognised  but  could  not  account  for;  was 
it  possible  that  she  had  some  strength  of  character,  after 
all  ?  Could  it  be  that  she  inherited  a  little  of  that  rigid 
will  that  had  made  her  father  so  like  her  idea  of  a  Puri 
tan  ?  He  had  always  told  her  that  she  was  weak,  that 
she  would  be  easily  influenced  by  her  surroundings, 
that  her  only  hope  must  be  to  obtain  Divine  aid  for  her 
feeble,  feminine  nature.  She  had  believed  him,  because 
he  had  taught  her  that  she  must,  even  in  the  smallest 
things,  and  this  was  a  great  one. 

But  now  something  cruelly  strong  was  tearing  at  her, 
to  make  her  go  into  the  next  room  and  beg  Madame  Ber 
nard  to  help  her  find  Giovanni,  if  only  that  she  might 
see  his  face  and  hear  his  voice  and  say  good-bye  just 
once  more.  She  laid  her  hands  on  the  window-sill  as 
if  she  would  hold  herself  down  in  her  chair,  and  she 
refused  to  move;  not  because  it  looked  foolish,  for  that 
would  not  have  mattered,  but  because  she  chose  not  to 
yield.  Perhaps  she  was  too  proud  to  give  way,  and 
pride,  they  told  her,  was  always  a  sin,  but  that  did  not 
matter  either.  There  was  an  unexpected  satisfac 
tion  in  finding  one  thin  strand  of  steel  among  the  pliant 
threads  of  her  untried  young  will. 

Besides,  she  would  have  much  to  bear,  and  if  she  did 
not  begin  at  once,  she  would  never  grow  used  to  the 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  87 

burden.  That  was  another  reason  for  not  following 
her  instinct,  and  a  very  good  one. 

To  help  herself,  she  began  to  say  one  of  those  prayers 
of  which  she  knew  so  many  by  heart.  To  her  surprise, 
it  disturbed  her  instead  of  strengthening  her  determina 
tion,  and  while  her  lips  were  moving  she  felt  an  almost 
overwhelming  impulse  to  do  what  she  was  determined 
not  to  do  at  any  cost.  The  sensation  startled  her,  and 
in  a  moment  she  felt  that  tide  of  darkness  rising  to 
drown  her  which  had  almost  overwhelmed  her  while  she 
was  kneeling  beside  her  dead  father.  Her  hand  pressed 
the  stone  window-sill  in  terror  of  the  awful  presence. 

It  is  familiar  to  those  few  who  have  knowingly  or 
unwittingly  tried  to  penetrate  the  darkness  to  the  light 
beyond.  It  has  been  called  the  Guardian,  the  Dweller 
on  the  Threshold,  the  Wall,  the  Destroyer,  the  Giant 
Despair.  Many  have  turned  back  from  it  as  from  death 
itself,  some  have  gone  raving  mad  in  fighting  their  way 
through  it,  some  have  actually  died  in  it,  of  failure  of  the 
heart  from  fright.  Some  come  upon  it  unawares  in 
their  reasoning,  some  in  the  hour  of  profound  medita 
tion;  some  know  by  long  experience  where  it  is  and 
keep  away  from  it;  some  are  able  to  pass  through  it 
with  unshaken  mind  and  unbroken  nerves.  Scarcely 
one  in  a  million  even  guesses  that  it  exists ;  of  those  who 
do,  ninety-nine  in  a  hundred  turn  from  it  in  horror; 
of  the  remaining  score  of  those  who  face  it  in  a  whole 
generation  of  men,  more  than  half  perish  in  mind  or 
body;  the  last  ten,  perhaps,  win  through,  and  these  are 
they  that  have  understood  the  writing  over  the  temple 


88  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

door,  the  great  'Know  thyself/  the  precept  of  the  Del 
phic  Oracle  and  of  all  mystics  before  Trophonios  and 
since. 

Angela's  lips  ceased  moving,  and  very  soon  she  was 
herself  again,  quietly  sitting  there  and  wondering  what 
had  frightened  her  so  badly,  and  whether  there  might 
not  be  something  wrong  with  her  heart,  because  she 
remembered  how  it  had  beat  twice  quickly  in  succession 
and  then  had  seemed  to  stand  still  while  she  could  have 
counted  ten,  quite  slowly. 

What  she  called  her  temptation  left  her  at  peace  till 
she  knew  that  Giovanni's  train  had  started.  In  im 
agination  she  could  hear  the  engine's  whistle,  the  hissing 
of  the  steam  from  the  purge-cocks  at  starting,  the 
quickening  thunder  of  the  high-pressure  exhaust,  the 
clanking  noise  as  the  slowly  moving  train  passed  over 
the  old-fashioned  turn-tables,  and  the  long  retreating 
rumble  as  the  express  gathered  speed  and  ran  out  of 
sight. 

Then  it  was  over,  for  good  and  all;  Giovanni  was 
gone  beyond  the  possibility  of  seeing  him  again  and  the 
strain  relaxed.  Angela  put  out  her  light,  and  when  she 
fell  asleep  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  drops  she  did  not 
even  feel  were  slowly  trickling  from  her  lids  to  the 
pillow ;  for  there  are  women  who  do  not  easily  cry  when 
they  are  awake,  but  when  they  are  sleeping  their  tired 
eyes  shed  the  pent-up  tears  and  are  refreshed  by  them. 

Angela  was  not  left  alone  with  Madame  Bernard  as 
much  as  she  had  expected  after  the  first  few  days,  nor 
even  as  much  as  she  might  have  wished.  The  feeling 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  89 

against  the  Princess  Chiaromonte  was  strong,  and  as 
soon  as  it  became  known  that  Angela  had  found  a  safe 
refuge  with  her  former  governess,  she  received  several 
invitations  from  more  or  less  distant  connections  to 
spend  some  time  with  them  in  the  country  during  the 
coming  summer.  At  the  present  juncture,  in  the  height 
of  the  season,  it  was  natural  that  no  one  should  want  a 
forlorn  young  girl  in  deep  mourning  to  make  a  town 
visit.  She  would  have  been  a  killjoy  and  a  wet  blanket 
in  any  house,  that  was  clear,  and  nothing  could  be  more 
thoroughly  respectable  and  proper  than  that  she  should 
spend  the  first  weeks  under  Madame  Bernard's  roof  and 
protection. 

Some  of  Angela's  friends  of  her  own  age  came  to  see 
her  by  and  by  and  offered  to  take  her  to  drive  in  their 
mothers'  carriages  or  motor  cars,  but  she  would  not  go, 
and  though  she  thanked  them  with  grateful  words  for 
thinking  of  her,  most  of  them  thought,  and  told  each 
other,  that  she  had  not  been  very  glad  to  see  them  and 
would  rather  be  left  alone.  They  supposed  that  she  was 
still  too  much  overcome  to  wish  for  their  society,  and 
as  young  people  who  drop  out  of  the  world  after  being 
in  it  a  very  short  time  are  soon  forgotten,  they  troubled 
themselves  very  little  about  her.  If  she  ever  chose  to 
come  out  of  her  solitude,  they  said,  she  would  be  wel 
come  again,  but  since  she  wished  to  be  left  to  herself  it 
was  very  convenient  to  humour  her,  because  the  Princess 
Chiaromonte  had  as  good  as  declared  that  there  were 
'excellent  reasons'  for  her  own  apparently  heartless 
conduct.  No  one  knew  what  that  meant,  but  when  she 


90  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

spoke  in  that  way  it  was  more  blessed  to  accept  her 
statement  than  to  get  her  enmity  by  doubting  it.  The 
Chiaromonte  family  were  at  liberty  to  settle  their  own 
affairs  as  seemed  best  in  their  own  eyes,  and  as  the  law 
could  not  interfere,  no  one  else  felt  inclined  to  do  so. 
Angela  had  no  near  relations  on  her  mother's  side  to 
protect  her  or  take  her  in. 

Six  weeks  passed  away  without  incident  after  Gio 
vanni  had  left,  and  she  had  received  three  letters  from 
him  —  one  from  Naples,  written  before  going  on  board 
the  steamer,  one  from  Port  Said,  and  one  from  Mas- 
sowah  after  his  arrival  there.  The  expedition  was  to 
start  in  three  days,  he  said ;  it  had  been  waiting  for  him 
and  the  officer  who  was  to  take  the  command,  and  who 
had  gone  with  him. 

A  short  time  after  receiving  this  last  letter  Angela 
was  reading  the  news  from  an  evening  paper  to  Madame 
Bernard,  translating  the  paragraphs  offhand  into  French, 
by  force  of  habit,  because  her  old  governess  had  often 
made  her  do  it  for  practice. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  became  fixed,  the  colour  left  her 
face,  and  she  dropped  the  newspaper  with  a  short,  loud 
cry,  falling  back  in  her  chair  at  the  same  moment. 

Madame  Bernard  snatched  up  the  sheet  and  glanced 
at  the  place  where  the  girl  had  last  been  reading. 

The  expedition  had  fallen  in  with  hostile  natives  a 
week  after  starting  and  had  been  massacred  to  a  man. 
The  names  of  the  dead  were  given,  and  Giovanni's  was 
the  second  on  the  list. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ANGELA  lived  for  weeks  in  a  state  of  sleepless  apathy, 
so  far  as  her  companion  could  see.  She  scarcely  spoke, 
and  ate  barely  enough  to  keep  herself  alive.  She  seemed 
not  to  sleep  at  all,  for  two  or  three  times  during  every 
night  Madame  Bernard  got  up  and  came  to  her  room, 
and  she  always  found  her  lying  quite  motionless  on  her 
back,  her  eyes  wide  open  and  staring  at  the  tasteless 
little  pattern  of  flowers  stencilled  in  colours  on  the  ceil 
ing.  Once  Madame  Bernard  proposed  to  take  away  the 
night-light  that  burned  in  a  cup  on  the  floor,  but  Angela 
shook  her  head  almost  energetically.  She  never  opened 
a  book  either,  nor  occupied  herself  in  any  way,  but 
seemed  content  to  sit  still  all  day  and  to  lie  awake  all 
night,  never  complaining,  and  never  even  speaking  unless 
her  friend  asked  her  a  direct  question.  Every  morning  at 
sunrise  she  put  on  her  hat  and  went  to  the  ancient  church 
of  San  Crisogono,  which  is  served  by  Trinitarian  monks. 
Sometimes  Madame  Bernard  went  with  her,  but  more 
often  she  was  accompanied  by  the  one  woman-servant 
who  cooked  and  did  the  housework. 

The  unhappy  girl  found  neither  consolation  nor  hope 
in  the  daily  service;  she  went  to  it  because,  somehow, 
it  seemed  to  be  the  only  thing  she  could  do  for  the  dead. 
She  knelt  down  every  day  on  the  same  spot,  and  re 
mained  kneeling  till  after  the  priest  and  the  acolyte  were 

91 


92  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

gone ;  she  took  her  missal  with  her,  but  never  looked  at 
it,  and  her  lips  never  moved  in  prayer;  she  felt  no  im 
pulse  to  go  to  confession,  nor  any  devotional  craving  for 
the  Communion.  The  mass  was  a  mere  form  to  her,  but 
she  attended  it  regularly,  as  if  she  expected  that  much  of 
herself  and  would  not  do  less  than  the  least  that  seemed 
to  be  her  duty.  That  was  all.  Prayer  in  any  form  of 
words  frightened  her,  for  it  soon  brought  her  near  to 
that  blinding  darkness  which  she  had  already  met 
twice  and  had  learned  to  dread;  her  present  misfortune 
was  incomparably  greater  than  those  that  had  gone 
before,  and  she  was  sure  that  if  the  outer  night  rose 
round  her  again  it  would  take  her  soul  down  into  itself 
to  eternal  extinction.  If  she  had  been  physically 
stronger,  she  might  have  tried  to  call  this  a  foolish 
delusion;  weak  as  she  was,  and  growing  daily  weaker, 
it  seemed  as  certain  as  that  her  body  must  perish  in 
stantly  if  she  walked  over  a  precipice.  The  past  was 
distorted,  the  present  had  no  meaning,  and  there  was 
no  future;  she  vaguely  understood  Dante's  idea  that 
the  body  may  be  left  on  earth,  apparently  alive,  for 
years  after  the  soul  has  departed  from  it,  for  the  evil 
Alberigo's  spirit  told  the  poet  that  his  own  body  and 
Branca  d'  Oria's  were  still  animated  by  demons  when 
their  souls  were  already  in  the  torment  of  the  eternal 
ice.  But  Angela  felt  rather  as  if  her  living  self  were  a 
mere  senseless  shell,  uninhabited  by  any  spirit,  bad  or 
good,  and  moved  by  the  mechanics  of  nature  rather  than 
by  her  own  will  or  another's. 
Madame  Bernard  watched  her  with  growing  anxiety 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  93 

as  the  days  and  weeks  brought  no  change.  The  little 
lodging  in  Trastevere  was  very  silent,  and  Coco  sat  dis 
consolately  drooping  his  wings  on  his  perch  when  his 
mistress  was  out,  as  she  was  during  more  than  half  the 
day,  giving  the  lessons  by  which  she  and  Angela  lived. 
The  girl  sometimes  did  not  move  from  her  chair  through 
out  the  long  morning  any  more  than  if  she  had  been 
paralysed,  or  at  most  she  tried  to  tend  the  flowers. 
The  roses  were  blooming  now,  and  on  fine  days,  when 
the  windows  were  open,  the  aromatic  perfume  of  the 
young  carnations  floated  in  with  the  sunbeams.  An 
gela  did  not  notice  the  scent,  and  for  all  the  pleasure  the 
blossoms  gave  her  they  might  have  been  turnips  and 
potatoes.  But  there  was  a  feeble  underlying  thought  of 
duty  in  plucking  off  a  small  withered  leaf  here  and  there, 
and  in  picking  out  the  tiny  weeds  that  tried  to  grow 
round  the  flower-stems.  From  very  far  away  she 
heard  Madame  Bernard  telling  her,  an  age  ago,  that  she 
could  tend  the  flowers  and  take  care  of  the  parrot  by 
way  of  helping  in  the  house. 

Coco  regarded  her  efforts  with  melancholy  con 
tempt,  and  turned  his  back  on  her  when  she  came  near 
him,  and  even  when  she  changed  the  water  in  his  tin  cup. 
As  he  only  drank  three  or  four  drops  in  a  day,  it  probably 
seemed  to  him  a  work  of  supererogation.  While  his 
mistress  was  out  he  rarely  uttered  a  sound;  but  when  he 
heard  her  footstep  in  the  short  passage  outside,  he  gave 
vent  to  his  feelings  and  hailed  her  return  with  boister 
ous  shouts  and  unearthly  whistling  of  old  French  mili 
tary  tunes.  Even  the  noise  he  made  did  not  disturb 


94  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Angela;  she  hardly  heard  him,  for  her  nerves  were  not 
overwrought,  but  deadened  almost  to  insensibility. 

Madame  Bernard  consulted  a  young  doctor,  a  man  of 
talent,  who  was  taking  lessons  of  her  for  the  sake  of  his 
practice  among  foreigners.  She  used  to  say  that  be 
tween  her  pupils,  and  their  friends  and  relations,  she  could 
get  the  best  advice  on  any  matter  without  paying  a  penny 
for  it.  The  young  physician  answered  that  he  could  not 
help  her  much  without  seeing  the  patient,  but  that  the 
best  thing  for  Angela  would  be  to  eat  and  sleep  well  and 
not  to  fret. 

Some  such  idea  had  probably  occurred  to  the  little 
Frenchwoman,  for  she  laughed  gaily  in  the  doctor's 
face,  and  he,  not  being  paid  to  look  serious,  joined  in  her 
laughter. 

'You  cannot  say  it  is  bad  advice/  he  said,  'and  you 
wanted  me  to  say  something.  Let  me  see  the  young 
lady,  and  I  will  tell  you  honestly  whether  I  know  of 
anything  that  will  do  her  good,  as  I  would  tell  a  col 
league/ 

They  agreed  that  he  should  call  one  evening  on  pretence 
of  taking  an  extra  lesson  in  a  leisure  hour ;  he  came  at 
the  appointed  time,  and  watched  Angela  narrowly  dur 
ing  the  short  time  she  remained  in  the  room.  When 
she  was  gone,  he  gave  his  opinion  without  hesitation. 

'The  best  thing  for  her  would  be  a  good  illness/  he 
said.  'You  look  surprised!  I  will  try  to  explain. 
That  young  lady  is  stronger  than  you  think.  It  would 
do  her  a  world  of  good  to  shed  tears,  but  she  cannot 
because  her  unconscious  power  of  resistance  has  been 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  95 

exercised  till  it  has  grown  rigid.  You  have  heard  of 
Hindu  devotees  who  hold  up  one  arm  till  it  stiffens  in 
that  position,  so  that  they  could  not  move  it  if  they 
tried.  That  is  an  image  of  what  I  mean,  unless  it  is  the 
thing  itself.  After  learning  the  terrible  news  Donna 
Angela  unconsciously  steeled  herself  against  her  natural 
impulse  to  break  down.  She  has  a  strong  will,  and  the 
result  is  what  you  see.  The  strain  of  resisting  was  so 
great  that  it  deadened  her  to  all  sensation  in  a  few  hours. 
If  she  could  fall  ill,  the  tension  would  relax;  in  my 
opinion  it  will  do  so  when  her  physical  strength  is  worn 
out  by  starvation  and  lack  of  sleep,  but  a  simple  specific 
malady,  like  the  whooping-cough  or  the  measles,  would 
be  better  for  her.  If  you  cannot  break  up  her  present 
condition,  and  if  she  has  any  organic  weakness  of  the 
heart,  it  may  stop  beating  one  of  these  days.  That  is 
what  is  called  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  my  dear  Ma 
dame  Bernard.  There  is  no  medicine  against  that  like 
a  broken  leg ! ' 

'Fie!'  cried  Madame  Bernard.  'You  have  no  hu 
man  feeling  at  all ! ' 

'I  am  sorry/  answered  the  physician,  with  a  smile, 
'but  it  is  my  business  to  have  a  head  instead.  You 
asked  my  opinion  and  I  have  given  it,  as  I  would  to 
another  doctor.  The  old-fashioned  ones  would  laugh  at 
me,  the  younger  ones  would  understand.7 

'  If  you  could  only  make  the  poor  child  sleep  a  little ! 
Is  there  nothing  ?  ' 

'She  is  not  neurasthenic/  the  doctor  objected.  'It 
would  be  of  no  use  to  give  her  sleeping  medicines,  for 


96  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

after  a  few  days  they  would  have  no  effect,  except  to 
excite  her  nerves  unnaturally/ 

'Or  something  to  give  her  an  appetite/  suggested 
Madame  Bernard  vaguely. 

'She  has  an  excellent  appetite  if  she  only  knew  it. 
The  reason  why  she  does  not  eat  is  that  she  does  not 
know  she  is  hungry,  though  she  is  half  starved.  I 
served  in  the  African  campaign  when  I  was  a  young 
military  surgeon.  I  have  seen  healthy  men  faint  for 
want  of  food  when  they  had  plenty  at  hand  because 
they  could  not  realise  that  they  were  hungry  in  their 
intense  preoccupation.  Great  emotions  close  the  en 
trance  to  the  stomach,  often  for  a  considerable  time.  It 
is  well  known,  and  it  is  easier  than  you  think  to  form  the 
habit  of  living  on  next  to  nothing.  It  is  the  first  step 
that  counts/ 

'As  they  said  of  Saint  Denis  when  he  carried  his  head 
three  steps  after  it  was  cut  off/  said  Madame  Bernard 
thoughtfully,  and  without  a  smile. 

'Precisely/  the  doctor  assented.  'I  myself  have  seen 
a  man  sit  his  horse  at  a  full  gallop,  without  relaxing  his 
hold,  for  fifty  yards  after  he  had  been  shot  through  the 
head.  The  seat  of  the  nerves  that  direct  automatic 
motion  is  not  in  the  brain,  but  appears  to  be  in  the  body, 
near  the  spine.  When  it  is  not  injured,  what  used  to 
be  called  unconscious  cerebration  may  continue  for 
several  seconds  after  death.  Similarly,  bodily  habits, 
like  feeling  hunger  or  being  insensible  to  it,  appear  to 
have  their  origin  in  those  ganglions  and  not  in  any  sort 
of  thought.  Consequently,  thought  alone,  without  a 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  97 

strong  exercise  of  the  will,  has  little  effect  upon  such 
habits  of  the  body.  When  a  man  does  a  thing  he  does 
not  mean  to  do,  and  says  "  I  cannot  help  it,"  he  is  admit 
ting  this  fact.  If  you  were  to  ask  Donna  Angela  if  she 
means  to  starve  herself  to  death  deliberately,  she  would 
deny  it  with  indignation,  but  would  tell  you  that  she 
really  cannot  eat,  and  meanwhile  she  is  starving.  Give 
her  a  comparatively  harmless  illness  like  the  measles, 
severe  enough  to  break  up  the  ordinary  automatic  habits 
of  the  body,  and  she  will  eat  again,  with  an  excellent 
appetite.  In  all  probability  I  could  give  her  the  measles 
by  artificial  means,  but  unfortunately  that  sort  of  treat 
ment  is  not  yet  authorised ! ' 

The  young  doctor,  who  was  not  by  any  means  a 
dreamer,  seemed  much  amused  at  his  own  conclusion, 
which  looks  absurd  even  on  paper,  and  Madame  Ber 
nard  did  not  believe  a  word  he  said.  In  questions  of 
medicine  women  are  divided  into  two  great  classes,  those 
who  will  consult  any  doctor  and  try  anything,  and  those 
who  only  ask  the  doctor's  opinion  when  they  are  forced 
to,  and  who  generally  do  precisely  the  opposite  of  what 
he  suggests.  This  is  a  more  practical  view  and  is  prob 
ably  the  safer,  if  they  must  go  to  one  of  the  two  ex 
tremes.  Moreover,  doctors  are  so  much  inclined  to  dis 
agree  that  when  three  of  them  give  a  unanimous  opinion 
it  is  apt  to  be  worthless. 

The  only  immediate  result  of  Madame  Bernard's 
consultation  with  the  doctor  was  that  she  disappointed 
one  of  her  pupils  the  next  day  in  order  to  gain  an  hour, 
which  she  devoted  to  making  a  very  exquisite  '  mousse  de 


OS  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

volaille  '  for  Angela.  The  poor  girl  was  much  touched, 
but  could  only  eat  two  or  three  mouthfuls,  and  the 
effort  she  made  to  overcome  her  repugnance  was  so 
unmistakable  that  the  good  little  Frenchwoman  was 
more  anxious  for  her  than  hurt  at  the  failure. 

She  had  tried  two  sciences,  she  said  to  herself,  but 
the  doctor  of  medicine  had  talked  the  nonsense  of 
theories  to  her,  and  the  combined  wisdom  of  Vatel, 
Brillat-Savarin,  and  Careme  had  proved  fruitless.  A 
person  who  could  not  cat  Madame  Bernard's  '  mousse  de 
volaille '  could  only  be  cured  by  a  miracle.  Accordingly, 
she  determined  to  consult  a  churchman  without  delay, 
and  went  out  early  in  the  afternoon.  Angela  did  not 
notice  that  she  was  dressed  with  more  than  usual  care, 
as  if  for  a  visit  of  importance. 

She  had  been  gone  about  half-an-hour,  and  the  young 
girl  was  sitting  in  her  accustomed  place,  listless  and 
apathetic  as  usual,  when  the  door-bell  rang,  and  a 
moment  later  the  woman-servant  came  in,  saying  that  a 
foreign  gentleman  was  on  the  landing  who  insisted  on 
seeing  Angela,  even  though  she  was  alone.  After  giving 
a  long  and  not  flattering  description  of  his  appearance, 
the  woman  held  out  the  card  he  had  given  her.  Angela 
glanced  at  it  and  read  the  name  of  Filmore  Durand,  and 
above,  in  pencil,  half-a-dozen  words:  'I  have  brought 
you  a  portrait/ 

Angela  did  not  understand  in  the  least,  though  she 
tried  hard  to  concentrate  her  thoughts. 

'Ask  the  gentleman  to  come  in/  she  answered  at  last, 
hardly  knowing  what  she  said. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  99 

She  turned  her  face  to  the  window  again,  and  in  the 
course  of  thirty  seconds,  when  she  was  roused  by  Du- 
rand's  voice  in  the  room,  she  had  almost  forgotten  that 
he  was  in  the  house.  She  had  not  heard  English  spoken 
since  she  had  left  his  studio  on  the  morning  when  her 
father  died,  and  she  started  at  the  sound.  For  weeks, 
nothing  had  made  such  an  impression  on  her. 

She  rose  to  receive  the  great  painter,  who  was  standing 
near  the  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  looking  at  her 
in  surprise  and  real  anxiety,  for  she  was  little  more  than 
a  shadow  of  the  girl  he  had  painted  six  weeks  or  two 
months  earlier.  He  himself  had  brought  in  a  good-sized 
picture,  wrapped  in  new  brown  paper;  it  stood  beside 
him  on  the  floor,  reaching  as  high  as  his  waist,  and  his 
left  hand  rested  on  the  upper  edge.  He  held  out  the 
other  to  Angela,  who  took  it  apathetically. 

1  You  have  been  very  ill/  he  said  in  a  tone  of  concern. 

'No/  she  answered.  'I  am  only  a  little  tired.  Will 
you  not  sit  down  ? ' 

She  sank  into  her  seat  again,  and  one  thin  hand  lay 
on  the  cushioned  arm  of  the  chair.  Instead  of  seating 
himself,  Durand  lifted  the  picture,  still  wrapped  up,  and 
set  it  upright  on  the  table,  so  that  it  faced  her. 

' I  heard/  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  'so  I  did  this  for  you 
from  memory  and  a  photograph.' 

There  was  a  sudden  crackling  and  tearing  of  the  strong 
paper  as  he  ripped  it  off  with  a  single  movement,  and 
then  there  was  absolute  silence  for  some  time.  Angela 
seemed  not  even  to  breathe,  as  she  leaned  forward  with 
parted  lips  and  unwinking,  wondering  eyes. 


100  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Then,  without  even  a  warning  breath,  a  cry  broke 
from  her  heart. 

'  He  is  not  dead !  You  have  seen  him  again  !  He  is 
alive  —  they  have  cheated  me ! ' 

Then  she  choked  and  leaned  back,  pressing  her  hand 
kerchief  to  her  mouth. 

Instead  of  answering,  the  painter  bent  his  head  and 
looked  down  sideways  at  his  own  astounding  handiwork, 
and  for  the  second  time  in  that  year  he  was  almost 
satisfied.  Presently,  as  Angela  said  nothing  more,  he 
was  going  to  move  the  canvas,  to  show  it  in  a  better 
light,  but  she  thought  he  meant  to  take  it  away. 

'No!'  she  cried  imperatively.  'Not  yet!  Let  me 
see  it  —  let  me  understand ' 

Her  words  died  away  and  she  was  silent  again,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  portrait.  At  last  she  rose,  came  for 
ward,  and  laid  both  her  thin  hands  on  the  narrow  black 
and  gold  frame. 

'I  must  have  it/  she  said.  'You  must  let  me  have  it, 
though  I  cannot  pay  for  it.  But  I  will  some  day.  I 
will  work  till  I  can  earn  enough  money,  or  till  I  die  — 
and  if  that  comes  soon,  they  will  give  you  back  the 
picture.  You  cannot  take  it  away ! ' 

Durand  saw  that  she  had  not  understood. 

'It  is  for  you/  he  said.  'I  painted  it  to  give  to  you. 
You  see,  after  your  father  died,  I  kept  yours  —  I  never 
meant  them  to  have  it,  but  it  seemed  as  if  I  owed  you 
something  for  it,  and  this  is  to  pay  my  debt.  Do  you 
see?' 

'How  kind  you  are!'  she  cried.    'How  very,  very 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  101 

kind !  I  do  not  quite  follow  the  idea  —  my  head  is 
always  so  tired  now  —  but  I  knew  you  would  under 
stand  how  I  should  feel  —  if  I  accepted  it  without  any 
return ! ' 

So  far  as  arithmetic  went,  the  man  of  genius  and  the 
broken-hearted  girl  were  equally  far  from  ordinary 
reckoning.  Durand  knew  that  by  a  turn  of  luck  he  had 
been  able  to  keep  the  only  portrait  he  had  ever  been 
sorry  to  part  with  when  it  was  finished,  and  he  was  in 
timately  convinced  that  he  owed  somebody  something 
for  such  an  unexpected  pleasure;  on  her  side,  Angela 
was  quite  sure  that  unless  the  portrait  of  the  man  she  had 
loved  was  to  be  an  equivalent  for  some  sort  of  obligation 
she  could  not  be  satisfied  to  keep  it  all  her  life  unpaid  for. 

It  filled  the  little  sitting-room  with  light  and  colour, 
as  a  Titian  might  have  done;  it  was  as  intensely  alive 
as  Giovanni  Severi  had  been  —  the  eyes  were  full  of 
those  quick  little  coruscations  of  fire  that  had  made 
them  so  unlike  those  of  other  men,  the  impulsive  nostrils 
seemed  to  quiver,  the  healthy  young  blood  seemed  to 
come  and  go  in  the  tanned  cheeks,  the  square  shoulders 
were  just  ready  to  make  that  quick,  impatient  little 
movement  that  had  been  so  characteristic  of  him,  so  like 
the  sudden  tension  of  every  muscle  when  a  thorough 
bred  scents  sport  or  danger.  No  ordinary  artist  would 
ever  have  seen  all  there  was  in  the  man,  even  in  a  dozen 
sittings,  but  the  twin  gifts  of  sight  and  memory  had  un 
consciously  absorbed  and  held  the  whole,  and  a  skill 
that  was  never  outdone  in -its  time  had  made  memory 
itself  visible  on  the  canvas.  Something  that  was  neither 


102  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

a  'harmless  illness'  nor  a  'miracle'  had  waked  Angela 
from  her  torpor. 

'  How  can  I  thank  you  ? '  she  asked,  after  a  long 
pause.  'You  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  me  to  see  his 
living  face  —  you  will  call  it  an  illusion  —  it  seems  as 
if- 

She  broke  off  suddenly  and  pressed  her  handkerchief 
to  her  lips  again. 

'Only  what  you  call  the  unreal  can  last  unchanged 
for  a  while/  the  painter  said,  catching  at  the  word  she 
had  used,  and  thinking  more  of  his  art  than  of  her. 
'Only  an  ideal  can  be  eternal,  but  every  honest  attempt 
to  give  it  shape  has  a  longer  life  than  any  living  creature. 
Nature  makes  only  to  destroy,  but  art  creates  for  the 
very  sake  of  preserving  the  beautiful.' 

She  heard  each  sentence,  but  was  too  absorbed  in 
the  portrait  to  follow  his  meaning  closely.  Perhaps  it 
would  have  escaped  her  if  she  had  tried. 

'Only  good  and  evil  are  everlasting,'  she  said,  almost 
unconsciously  repeating  words  she  had  heard  somewhere 
when  she  was  a  child. 

Durand  looked  at  her  quickly,  but  he  saw  that  she  was 
not  really  thinking. 

'What  is  "good"?'  he  asked,  as  if  he  were  sure  that 
there  was  no  answer  to  the  question. 

It  attracted  her  attention,  and  she  turned  to  him ;  she 
was  coining  back  to  life. 

'Whatever  helps  people  is  good,'  she  said. 

'The  French  proverb  says  "Help  thyself  and  God  will 
help  thee,'"  suggested  Durand. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  103 

'No,  it  should  be  "Help  others,  and  God  will  help 
you," '  Angela  answered. 

The  artist  fixed  his  eyes  on  her  as  he  nodded  a  silent 
assent ;  and  suddenly,  though  her  face  was  so  changed,  he 
knew  it  was  more  like  his  portrait  of  her  than  ever,  and 
that  the  prophecy  of  his  hand  was  coming  to  fulfilment. 

He  stayed  a  moment  longer,  and  asked  if  he  could  be 
of  any  service  to  her  or  Madame  Bernard.  She  thanked 
him  vaguely,  and  almost  smiled.  He  felt  instinctively 
that  she  was  thinking  of  what  she  had  last  said,  and  was 
wishing  that  some  one  would  tell  her  how  she  might  do 
something  for  others,  rather  than  that  another  should 
do  anything  for  her. 

She  went  with  him  to  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
and  let  him  out  herself. 

'  Thank  you/  she  said,  '  thank  you !  You  don't  know 
what  you  have  done  for  me  ! ' 

He  looked  at  her  in  thoughtful  silence  for  a  few  seconds, 
holding  her  hand  as  if  they  were  old  friends. 

'  There  is  no  such  thing  as  death/  he  said  gravely. 

And  with  this  odd  speech  he  left  her  and  went  slowly 
down  the  narrow  stone  steps;  and  though  she  watched 
him  till  he  disappeared  at  the  next  landing,  he  did  not 
once  turn  his  head. 

When  she  was  in  the  sitting-room  she  set  the  framed 
picture  on  a  straight  chair  near  the  window  and  sat  down 
before  it  in  her  accustomed  seat;  and  Durand's  last 
words  came  back  to  her  again  and  again,  as  if  they  were 
begging  to  be  remembered  and  understood.  Her  mem 
ory  brought  with  them  many  exhortations  and  sayings 


101  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

from  the  sacred  books,  but  none  of  them  seemed  to 
mean  just  what  she  knew  that  little  speech  of  his  must 
mean  if  she  could  quite  understand  it. 

She  had  come  to  life  again  unexpectedly,  and  the  spell 
of  her  dreadful  solitude  was  broken.  She  did  not  think 
it  strange  that  her  eyes  were  dry  as  she  gazed  at  the 
well-loved  face,  while  the  inner  voice  told  her  that  there 
was  'no  such  thing  as  death.'  The  dead  man  had  done 
his  duty,  and  he  expected  her  to  do  hers  until  the  time 
came  for  them  to  meet  for  ever. 

In  the  aimless  wandering  of  her  thoughts  during  the 
past  weeks  she  had  only  understood  that  he  was  gone. 
In  an  uncounted  moment,  while  she  had  been  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  a  book,  or  idly  talking  with  Madame 
Bernard,  or  plucking  a  withered  leaf  from  one  of  the 
plants  outside  the  window,  he  had  been  fighting  for  his 
life  and  had  lost  it.  Perhaps  she  had  been  quietly 
asleep  just  then.  She  had  heard  people  say  they  were 
sure  that  if  anything  happened  to  those  they  dearly 
loved,  some  warning  would  reach  them;  she  had  heard 
tales  of  persons  appearing  at  the  moment  of  their  death 
to  those  dearest  to  them,  and  even  to  indifferent  people. 
Such  stories  were  but  idle  talk,  for  while  she  had  been 
reading  the  news  out  to  Madame  Bernard,  she  had  been 
expecting  to  hear  that  the  expedition  was  advancing 
successfully  on  its  way,  she  had  been  wondering  what 
chance  there  was  of  getting  a  letter  from  the  interior, 
she  had  been  intimately  convinced  that  Giovanni  was 
safe,  well,  and  making  good  progress,  when  he  had  been 
dead  a  fortnight. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  105 

Madame  Bernard  had  read  the  details,  so  far  as  they 
were  known,  but  she  had  wisely  said  nothing  except 
that  the  news  was  fully  confirmed.  Angela  herself  had 
refused  to  touch  a  newspaper  since  that  day;  it  had 
been  enough  that  he  was  gone  —  to  know  how,  or  even 
to  guess,  would  be  a  suffering  she  could  not  face.  What 
had  been  found  of  the  poor  men  who  had  perished  had 
been  brought  home;  there  had  been  a  great  military 
funeral  for  them ;  their  names  were  inscribed  for  ever  on 
the  roll  of  honour.  In  time,  when  the  political  situation 
changed,  an  effort  would  be  made  to  avenge  their  death, 
no  doubt;  for  every  man  who  had  been  murdered  a 
hundred  would  be  slain,  or  more,  if  possible,  till  even  a 
Scythian  might  feel  satisfied  that  their  angry  spirits 
were  appeased  by  blood.  Angela  knew  nothing  of  all 
this,  for  she  never  left  the  house  except  to  go  to  early 
mass  every  day,  and  Madame  Bernard  never  spoke  of 
the  dead  man  nor  of  the  lost  expedition. 

When  the  governess  came  home,  a  little  after  sunset, 
Angela  was  still  sitting  before  the  picture,  her  chin  resting 
on  her  hand  and  her  elbow  on  her  knee  as  she  leaned 
forward  to  see  better  in  the  failing  light.  The  girl 
turned  her  head  with  a  bright  smile,  and  Madame  Ber 
nard  started  in  surprise  when  she  saw  the  portrait. 

1  It  is  he  ! '  she  cried.     '  It  is  he,  to  the  very  life  ! ' 

'Yes,'  Angela  answered  softly,  'it  is  Giovanni.  He 
has  been  telling  me  that  I  must  do  my  part,  as  he  did 
his.  He  is  waiting  for  me,  but  I  cannot  go  to  him  till 
my  share  is  done.' 

She  was  gazing   at  the   face  again,  while  Madame 


106  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Bernard  looked  from  it  to  her  in  undisguised  astonish 
ment. 

'I  do  not  understand,  my  dear,'  she  said  very  gently. 
1  Who  has  brought  you  this  wonderful  picture  ? ' 

She  hardly  expected  an  explanation,  and  she  guessed 
that  the  portrait  was  Durand's  work,  for  few  living 
painters  could  have  made  such  a  likeness,  and  none 
would  have  painted  it  in  that  way,  which  was  especially 
his  own.  To  her  surprise  Angela  turned  on  her  chair 
without  rising,  and  told  her  just  what  had  happened, 
since  he  had  come  in  early  in  the  afternoon  bringing  the 
picture  with  him.  When  she  had  finished  she  turned 
to  it  again,  as  if  there  were  nothing  more  to  be  said,  and 
at  that  moment  Coco  began  to  talk  in  a  tone  that  made 
further  conversation  impossible.  Madame  Bernard  took 
him  on  her  hand  and  disappeared  with  him. 

When  she  came  back,  Angela  was  standing  on  a  chair 
holding  up  the  portrait  with  both  hands  and  trying  to 
hang  it  by  the  inner  edge  of  the  frame  on  an  old  nail  she 
had  found  already  driven  into  the  wall.  Madame  Ber 
nard  at  once  began  to  help  her,  as  if  not  at  all  surprised 
at  her  sudden  energy,  though  it  seemed  nothing  less  than 
miraculous. 

They  succeeded  at  last,  and  both  got  down  from 
their  chairs  and  drew  back^two  steps  to  judge  of  the 
effect. 

'  It  is  a  little  too  high/  Angela  said  thoughtfully.  'To 
morrow  I  will  get  a  cord  and  two  rings  to  screw  into  the 
frame  at  the  back,  and  then  we  will  hang  it  just  as  it 
should  be.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  107 

'Perhaps  we  could  put  it  in  a  better  light/  Madame 
Bernard  suggested.  'The  room  is  so  dark  now  that  one 
cannot  judge  of  that.' 

'He  must  be  where  he  can  see  me/  Angela  said. 

Her  friend  looked  puzzled,  and  the  young  girl  smiled 
again,  quite  naturally. 

'I  am  not  dreaming/  she  said,  as  if  answering  a  ques 
tion  not  spoken.  'I  do  not  mean  that  the  picture  can 
really  see,  any  more  than  I  believe  that  what  they  call 
"miraculous  images"  of  saints  are  the  saints  themselves  ! 
But  when  I  see  the  eyes  of  the  portrait  looking  straight 
at  me,  I  feel  that  he  himself  must  see  me,  from  where 
he  is ;  and  he  will  see  me  do  my  part,  as  he  has  done  his. 
At  least,  I  hope  I  may/ 

She  went  to  her  own  room,  and  Madame  Bernard 
followed  her  to  light  the  little  lamp  for  her  as  she  had 
always  done  of  late.  But  to-day  Angela  insisted  on 
doing  it  herself. 

'You  must  not  wait  on  me  any  more/  said  the  girl. 
'I  have  been  very  idle  for  weeks,  but  I  did  not  under 
stand,  and  you  will  forgive  me,  because  you  are  so  good 
and  kind.' 

'You  are  a  little  angel,  my  dear !'  cried  Madame  Ber 
nard,  much  affected.  'They  did  right  to  name  you 
Angela ! ' 

But  Angela  shook  her  head,  as  she  put  the  paper 
shade  over  the  cheap  lamp,  and  then  went  to  the  window 
to  close  the  inner  shutters  before  drawing  the  chintz 
curtains. 

'I  have  been  a  very  useless  little  angel/  she  answered, 


108  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'and  I  am  sorry  for  it.  But  I  mean  to  do  better  now, 
and  you  will  help  me,  won't  you?' 

'That  is  all  I  ask !  But  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  dis 
couraged  to-day,  and  I  have  been  to  ask  the  advice  of  a 
very  good  man.  There!  I  have  told  you,  and  I  am 
glad  of  it,  because  I  hate  secrets!  He  has  promised 
to  come  and  see  you,  and  talk  to  you,  but  now  that  you 
are  yourself  again '  She  stopped,  as  if  embarrassed. 

'Who  is  he?'  asked  Angela  with  a  shade  of  distrust. 
'A  priest?' 

'  Please  do  not  be  angry ! '  Madame  Bernard  began 
to  repent  of  what  she  had  done.  'I  was  so  much  dis 
tressed  —  I  felt  that  you  were  slipping  out  of  the  world 
day  by  day,  just  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  so  I  went  to 
see  him  this  afternoon.' 

'I  am  not  going  to  die/  Angela  said  confidently. 
'Who  is  he?  I  think  I  know  at  last  what  I  must  do, 
without  the  advice  of  a  priest.  But  tell  me  who  he  is.' 

'  He  is  such  a  good  man,  my  dear  —  Monsignor  Saraci- 
nesca.' 

'That  is  different,'  Angela  said,  changing  her  tone  at 
once.  '  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  Monsignor  Saracinesca. 
He  is  a  real  saint,  if  there  is  one  living.' 


CHAPTER  VII 

THERE  is  a  religious  house  in  Rome,  beyond  the  Tiber 
and  not  far  from  Porta  Portese,  which  I  will  call  the 
Convent  of  the  White  Sisters  of  Santa  Giovanna  d '  Aza. 
Their  order  is  a  branch  of  a  great  and  ancient  one,  though 
it  has  not  had  a  separate  existence  a  very  long  time. 
The  convent  contains  one  of  the  best  private  hospitals 
in  Italy,  and  the  Sisters  also  go  out  as  trained  nurses, 
like  those*  of  several  other  orders.  But  they  do  some 
thing  more,  which  the  others  do  not;  for  almost  every 
year  two  or  three,  or  even  four  of  them  go  out  to  the  Far 
East  to  work  in  the  leper  hospitals  which  missionaries 
have  established  in  Rangoon  and  elsewhere ;  and  a  good 
many  have  gone  in  the  last  ten  years,  but  few  will  ever 
return. 

The  convent  is  much  larger  than  any  one  would  sup 
pose  who  judged  merely  from  the  uninteresting  stuccoed 
wall  which  faces  the  quiet  street,  and  in  which  there  are 
a  few  plain  windows  without  shutters  and  a  large  wooden 
door,  painted  a  dull  green.  This  door,  which  is  the 
main  entrance,  is  opened  and  shut  by  the  portress  as 
often  as  a  hundred  times  a  day  and  more;  but  when  it  is 
open  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  within  but  a  dark  vesti 
bule  paved  with  flagstones;  and  the  portress's  wooden 
face  is  no  more  prepossessing  than  the  wall  itself.  If 

109 


110  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

any  one  asks  her  a  question,  she  answers  civilly  in  a 
businesslike  tone,  with  a  hard  foreign  accent,  for  she  is 
the  widow  of  one  of  the  Swiss  Guards  at  the  Vatican; 
but  she  is  naturally  silent,  stolid,  mechanical,  and  trust 
worthy.  She  is  a  lay  sister  and  is  called  Sister  Anna, 
and  she  lives  in  a  small  room  on  the  left  of  the  vestibule, 
as  you  go  in,  five  steps  above  the  stone  pavement.  She 
is  very  rarely  relieved  from  her  duties  for  a  few  hours  at 
a  time,  and  all  the  patients  must  pass  her  when  they 
enter  or  leave  the  house,  as  well  as  the  doctors,  and  the 
visitors  whose  smart  carriages  and  motor  cars  often 
stand  waiting  in  the  narrow  street.  Fifty  times  a  day, 
perhaps,  the  door-bell  rings  and  Sister  Anna  deliberately 
flaps  down  the  five  steps  in  her  heavily-soled  slippers  to 
admit  one  person  or  another,  and  fifty  times,  again,  she 
flaps  down  to  let  them  out  again.  The  reason  why  she 
does  not  go  mad  or  become  an  imbecile  is  that  she  is 
Swiss.  That,  at  least,  is  how  it  strikes  the  celebrated 
surgeon,  Professor  Fieri,  who  is  at  the  convent  very  often 
because  he  has  many  of  his  patients  brought  there  to  be 
operated  on  and  nursed. 

The  truth  is  that  the  hospital  is  a  thoroughly  modern 
one,  which  has  been  built  as  an  extension  of  buildings 
that  date  from  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries. 
It  is  managed  on  soundly  scientific  principles,  without 
the  least  fuss,  or  any  'board  of  trustees'  or  'committee 
of  management,'  or  any  of  that  cumbrous  administration 
which  makes  so  many  public  hospitals  as  intricate  as 
labyrinths,  only  to  be  threaded  with  a  clue  of  red  tape, 
and  proportionately  unpractical. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  111 

There  is  a  still  and  sunny  garden  within,  surrounded 
by  a  wide  and  dry  cloister,  above  which  the  ancient 
building  rises  only  one  story  on  the  three  sides  of  the 
square ;  but  on  the  fourth  side,  which  looks  towards  the 
sun  at  noon,  there  are  three  stories,  which  have  been 
built  lately,  and  the  hospital  wards  are  in  that  wing,  one 
above  the  other.  On  the  opposite  side,  a  door  opens 
from  the  cloister  to  the  choir  of  the  church,  which  has 
also  an  outer  entrance  from  the  street,  now  rarely  used ; 
for  the  chaplain  comes  and  goes  through  the  cloister, 
the  vestibule,  and  the  green  door  where  the  portress  is. 

Beyond  her  lodge  there  is  a  wide  hall,  with  clerestory 
windows  and  glass  doors  opening  to  the  cloister  and  the 
garden;  and  from  this  hall  the  hospital  itself  is  reached 
by  a  passage  through  which  all  the  patients  are  taken. 
The  Mother  Superior's  rooms  are  those  above  the  cloister 
on  the  further  side  of  the  garden,  and  have  three  beauti 
ful  thirteenth  century  windows  divided  by  pairs  of  slen 
der  columns,  so  that  each  window  has  two  little  arches. 

In  the  middle  of  the  garden  there  is  an  old  well  with 
three  arches  of  carved  stone  that  spring  from  three 
pillars  and  meet  above  the  centre  of  the  well-head,  and 
the  double  iron  chain  runs  over  a  wheel,  and  has  two 
wrought  copper  buckets,  one  at  each  end  of  it;  but  the 
water  is  now  used  only  for  watering  the  flowers.  There 
are  stone  seats  round  the  well,  too,  on  which  three  old 
nuns  often  sit  and  sun  themselves  on  fine  days.  They 
are  the  last  of  the  Sisters  of  the  old  time,  when  there  was 
no  hospital  and  no  training  school,  and  the  nuns  used 
to  do  anything  in  the  way  of  nursing  that  was  asked  of 


112  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

them  by  rich  or  poor,  with  a  good  heart  and  a  laudable 
intention,  but  without  even  the  simplest  elements  of 
modern  prophylaxis,  because  it  had  not  been  invented 
then.  For  that  has  all  been  discovered  quite  recently, 
as  we  older  men  can  remember  only  too  well. 

There  are  many  roses  in  the  garden,  and  where  there 
is  most  sun  there  is  a  large  bed  of  carnations,  but  not  of 
the  finer  sorts ;  they  are  just  plain  red  and  white  ones, 
that  fill  the  air  with  a  scent  of  warm  cloves  on  still 
mornings  in  the  late  spring,  when  it  is  beginning  to  be 
hot.  But  if  this  description  has  seemed  tedious,  you 
must  know  that  Angela  lived  in  the  convent  and  worked 
there  for  five  %  whole  years  after  Giovanni  was  lost  in 
Africa;  so  that  it  was  needful  to  say  something  about 
her  surroundings. 

An  accomplished  psychologist  would  easily  fill  a  vol 
ume  with  the  history  of  Angela's  soul  from  the  day  on 
which  she  learned  the  bad  news  till  the  morning  when 
she  made  her  profession  and  took  the  final  vows  of  her 
order  in  the  little  convent  church.  But  one  great  ob 
jection  to  psychological  analysis  in  novels  seems  to  be 
that  the  writer  never  gets  beyond  analysing  what  he 
believes  that  he  himself  would  have  felt  if  placed  in  the 
1  situation '  he  has  invented  for  his  hero  or  heroine.  Thus 
analysed,  Angela  Chiaromonte  would  not  have  known 
herself,  any  more  than  those  who  knew  her  best,  such  as 
Madame  Bernard  and  her  aunt  the  Princess,  would  have 
recognised  her.  I  shall  not  try  to  'factorise'  the  result 
represented  by  her  state  of  mind  from  time  to  time; 
still  less  shall  I  employ  a  mathematical  process  to  prove 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  ,  113 

that  the  ratio  of  dx  to  dy  is  twice  x,  the  change  in  Angela 
at  any  moment  of  her  moral  growth. 

What  has  happened  must  be  logical,  just  because  it 
has  happened;  if  we  do  not  understand  the  logic,  that 
may  or  may  not  be  the  worse  for  us,  but  the  facts  remain. 

It  is  easy,  too,  to  talk  of  a  '  vocation '  and  to  lay  down 
the  law  regarding  it,  in  order  to  say  that  such  and  such 
a  woman  acted  wisely  in  entering  a  religious  order,  or 
that  such  another  made  a  mistake.  The  fact  that  there 
is  no  such  law  is  itself  the  reason  why  neither  a  man  nor 
a  woman  is  permitted  nowadays  to  take  permanent  vows 
until  after  a  considerable  period  of  probation,  first  as  a 
1  postulant7  and  then  as  a  novice. 

For  my  own  part,  when  Angela  Chiaromonte  left 
Madame  Bernard's  pleasant  rooms  in  Trastevere  and 
went  into  the  convent  hospital  of  Santa  Giovanna 
d'  Aza  through  the  green  door,  I  do  not  believe  that  she 
had  the  very  smallest  intention  of  becoming  a  nun,  nor 
that  she  felt  anything  like  what  devout  persons  call  a 
'vocation.7  It  was  not  to  disappear  from  the  world 
for  ever  that  she  went  there,  and  it  was  not  in  order  to 
be  alone  with  her  sorrow,  though  that  would  have  been 
a  natural  and  human  impulse;  nor  was  it  because  she 
felt  herself  drawn  to  an  existence  of  asceticism  and  mys 
tic  meditation. 

The  prospect  of  work  was  what  attracted  her.  She 
was  a  perfectly  healthy-minded  girl,  and  though  she 
might  never  cease  to  mourn  the  man  she  had  loved,  it 
was  to  be  foreseen  that  in  all  other  respects  she  might 
recover  entirely  from  the  terrible  shock  and  live  out  a 


114  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

normal  life.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  that  is 
what  would  have  happened ;  she  would  have  gone  back 
to  the  world  after  a  time,  outwardly  the  same,  though 
inwardly  changed  in  so  far  as  all  possibilities  of  love  and 
marriage  were  concerned;  she  would  have  lived  in 
society,  year  after  year,  growing  old  gracefully  and 
tenderly,  as  some  unmarried  women  do  whose  stories  we 
never  knew  or  have  forgotten,  but  whose  hearts  are  far 
away,  watching  for  the  great  To-morrow,  beside  a  dead 
man's  grave,  or  praying  before  an  altar  whence  the  god 
has  departed.  They  are  women  whom  we  never  call 
'  old  maids/  perhaps  because  we  feel  that  in  memory  they 
are  sharing  their  lives  with  a  well-loved  companion  whom 
we  cannot  see.  That  might  have  been  Angela's  future. 

But  a  brutal  fact  put  such  a  possibility  out  of  the 
question.  She  was  a  destitute  orphan,  living  on  the 
charity  of  her  former  governess,  whereas  her  nature  was 
independent,  brave,  and  self-reliant.  When  she  rose 
above  the  wave  that  had  overwhelmed  her,  and  opened 
her  eyes  and  found  her  senses  again,  her  instinct  was  to 
strike  out  for  herself,  and  though  she  talked  with  Mon- 
signor  Saracinesca  again  and  again,  she  had  really  made 
up  her  mind  after  her  first  conversation  with  him.  She 
saw  that  she  must  work  for  her  living,  but  at  the  same 
time  she  longed  to  devote  her  life  to  some  good  work  for 
Giovanni's  sake.  The  churchman  told  her  that  if  she 
could  learn  to  nurse  the  sick,  she  might  accomplish  both 
ends. 

He  never  suggested  that  she  should  become  a  nun, 
or  take  upon  herself  any  permanent  obligation.  He 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  115 

had  seen  much  of  human  nature;  the  girl  was  very 
young,  and  perhaps  he  underrated  the  strength  of  her 
love  for  the  dead  man,  and  thought  that  she  might  yet 
marry  happily  and  live  a  normal  woman's  life.  But 
there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  become  a  trained 
nurse  in  the  meantime,  and  there  was  room  for  her  in 
the  nuns'  hospital  of  Saint  Joan  of  Aza,  an  institution 
which  owes  its  first  beginnings  and  much  of  its  present 
success  to  the  protection  of  the  Saracinesca  family,  and 
more  particularly  to  the  Princess  herself,  the  beautiful 
Donna  Corona  of  other  days,  and  to  her  second  son, 
Monsignor  Ippolito.  The  hospital  was  always  in  need 
of  young  nurses,  especially  since  a  good  many  of  the 
older  ones  were  going  to  the  Far  East,  and  when  there 
was  a  choice  the  Mother  Superior  gave  the  preference 
to  applicants  from  the  better  classes. 

The  matter  was  therefore  settled  without  difficulty, 
and  Angela  was  soon  installed  in  the  tiny  room  which 
remained  her  cell  for  years  afterwards.  It  contained  a 
narrow  iron  bedstead,  and  during  the  day  a  small  brass 
cross  always  lay  on  the  white  coverlet ;  there  was  a  chest 
of  drawers,  a  minute  table  on  which  stood  an  American 
nickeled  alarum  clock;  there  was  one  rush-bottomed 
chair,  and  the  only  window  looked  westwards  over  the 
low  city  wall  towards  Monteverde,  where  the  powder 
magazine  used  to  stand  before  it  was  blown  up.  The 
window  was  latticed  half-way  up,  which  did  not  hinder 
Angela  from  seeing  the  view  when  she  had  time  to  look 
at  it. 

She  wore  a  plain  grey  frock  at  first,  but  when  she  was 


116  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

in  the  wards  it  was  quite  covered  by  the  wide  white 
cotton  garment  which  all  the  nurses  wore  when  on  duty. 
Occasionally  Madame  Bernard  came  and  took  her  for  a 
walk,  and  sometimes  she  went  out  on  an  errand  with 
one  of  the  nuns;  but  she  did  not  care  very  much  for 
that,  possibly  because  she  was  not  under  any  restraint. 
The  beautiful  enclosed  garden  was  wide  and  sunny,  and 
she  could  generally  be  alone  there;  when  the  weather 
was  fine  she  could  wander  about  between  the  beds  of 
roses  and  carnations  or  sit  on  a  bench,  and  if  it  rained  she 
could  walk  up  and  down  under  the  cloisters.  The  three 
old  nuns  who  came  out  to  sun  themselves  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  her,  beyond  nodding  rather  shakily  when  she  bent 
her  head  to  them  in  respectful  salutation.  They  had  seen 
more  than  a  hundred  girls  enter  the  convent,  to  work 
and  grow  old  like  themselves,  and  one  more  neither  made 
any  difference  to  them  nor  possessed  for  them  the  least 
interest.  That  strange  petrifaction  had  begun  in  them 
which  overtakes  all  very  old  monks  and  nuns  who  have 
never  had  very  active  minds.  From  doing  the  same 
things,  with  no  appreciable  variation,  at  the  same  hours 
for  fifty,  sixty,  and  even  seventy  years,  they  become  so 
perfectly  mechanical  that  their  bodies  are  always  in  one 
of  a  limited  number  of  attitudes,  less  and  less  pronounced 
as  great  age  advances,  till  they  at  last  cease  to  move  at 
all  and  die,  as  the  hands  of  a  clock  stop  when  it  has  run 
down. 

But  the  three  old  nuns  belonged  to  a  past  generation, 
and  it  was  not  probable  that  the  younger  Sisters  would 
ever  be  like  them.  The  Mother  Superior  was  a  small 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  117 

and  active  woman,  with  quick  black  eyes,  a  determined 
mouth,  and  a  strangely  pale  face.  She  seemed  to  be 
incapable  of  being  tired.  Among  themselves  the  novices 
called  her  the  little  white  volcano.  When  the  one  who 
had  invented  the  epithet  repeated  it  to  Monsignor  Sara- 
cinesca  in  confession,  and  he  gently  told  her  that  it  was 
wrong  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  her  superior,  she  rather 
pertly  asked  him  whether  any  one  who  lived  under  a 
volcano  could  fail  to  'respect'  it;  whereat  he  shook  his 
head  gravely  inside  the  confessional,  but  his  spiritual 
mouth  twitched  with  amusement,  in  spite  of  himself. 
The  four  novices  were  inclined  to  distrust  Angela  at  first, 
however,  as  she  was  not  even  a  postulant,  and  it  was  not 
till  she  became  one  of  themselves  that  she  was  initiated 
into  their  language. 

It  was  not  long  before  this  took  place,  however.  From 
the  first,  she  showed  a  most  unusual  aptitude  in  learning 
the  mechanical  part  of  her  profession,  and  her  extraor 
dinary  memory  made  it  easy  for  her  to  remember  the 
lectures  which  were  given  for  the  nurses  three  times  a 
week,  generally  by  the  house  surgeon,  but  occasionally 
by  the  great  Doctor  Fieri,  who  had  been  a  pupil  of  Basini 
of  Padua  and  was  a  professor  in  the  University  of  Rome. 
He  showed  especial  interest  in  Angela,  and  the  pert 
little  novice  wickedly  suggested  that  he  was  falling  in 
love  with  her;  but  the  truth  was  that  he  at  once  dis 
tinguished  in  her  the  natural  gifts  which  were  soon  to 
make  her  the  most  valuable  nurse  at  his  disposal. 

The  Mother  Superior  expected  that  she  would  become 
vain  and  gave  her  some  energetic  lectures  on  the  evils  of 


118  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

conceit.  There  was  a  sort  of  fury  of  good  about  the 
pale  woman  that  carried  everything  before  it.  She  was 
just,  but  her  righteous  anger  was  a  ready  firebrand,  and 
when  it  burst  into  flame,  as  often  happened,  her  elo 
quence  was  extraordinary.  Her  face  might  have  been 
carved  out  of  white  ice,  but  her  eyes  glowed  like  coals 
and  her  words  came  low,  quick,  and  clear,  and  wonder 
fully  to  the  point.  As  a  girl,  her  temper  had  been  ter 
rific,  and  had  estranged  her  from  her  own  family;  but 
her  unconquerable  will  had  forged  it  into  a  weapon  that 
never  failed  her  in  a  just  cause  and  was  never  drawn 
in  an  unjust  one.  Monsignor  Saracinesca  sometimes 
thought  that  Saint  Paul  must  have  had  the  same  kind  of 
fiery  and  fearless  temperament. 

It  sometimes  outran  facts,  if  it  always  obeyed  her 
intention,  as  happened  one  day  when  she  privately  gave 
Angela  a  sermon  on  vanity  which  would  have  made  the 
other  novices  tremble  at  the  time  and  feel  very  uncom 
fortable  for  several  days  afterwards.  When  she  had 
wound  up  her  peroration  and  finished,  she  drew  two  or 
three  fierce  little  breaths  and  scrutinised  the  young  girl's 
face ;  but  to  her  surprise  it  had  not  changed  in  the  least. 
The  clear  young  eyes  were  as  steady  and  quiet  as  ever; 
if  they  expressed  anything,  it  was  a  quiet  admiration 
which  the  older  woman  had  not  hitherto  roused  in  the 
younger  members  of  her  community. 

'Pray  for  me,  Mother/  Angela  said,  'and  I  will  try  to 
be  less  vain/ 

The  other  looked  at  her  again  very  keenly,  and  then, 
instead  of  answering,  asked  a  question. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  119 

'Why  do  you  wish  to  be  a  nun?' 

Angela  had  lately  asked  herself  the  same  thing,  but 
she  replied  with  some  diffidence: 

'If  I  can  do  a  little  good,  by  working  very  hard  all 
my  life,  I  hope  that  it  may  be  allowed  to  help  the  soul 
of  a  person  who  died  suddenly/ 

The  Mother  Superior's  white  face  softened  a  little. 

1  That  is  a  good  intention/  she  said.  '  If  it  is  sincere  and 
lasting,  you  will  be  a  good  nun.  You  may  begin  your 
noviciate  on  Sunday  if  you  have  made  up  your  mind.' 

'I  am  ready.' 

'Very  well.  I  have  only  one  piece  of  advice  to  give 
you,  and  perhaps  I  shall  remind  you  of  it  often,  for  it 
was  given  to  me  very  late,  and  I  should  have  been  the 
better  for  it.  Try  to  remember  what  I  tell  you.' 

'I  will  remember,  Mother.' 

'  It  is  this.  Count  your  failures  but  not  your  successes. 
You  cannot  surprise  God  by  the  amount  of  good  you  do. 
There  are  girls  who  enter  upon  the  noviciate  just  as  hard 
working  students  go  up  for  an  examination,  hoping  to 
astonish  their  examiners  by  the  amount  they  know. 
That  is  well  enough  at  the  university,  but  it  is  all  wrong 
in  religion.  Work  how  you  will,  you  cannot  be  perfect, 
and,  if  you  were,  you  could  only  be  what  God  made  man 
before  sin  came.  Each  student  is  trying  to  beat  all  the 
others,  and  one  succeeds.  We  are  not  trying  to  outdo 
each  other;  there  are  no  marks  in  our  examination  and 
there  is  no  competition.  We  are  working  together  to 
save  life  in  a  world  where  millions  die  for  want  of  care. 
To  do  less  than  the  best  we  can  is  failure,  for  each  of  us, 


120  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

and  the  best  we  can  all  do  together  is  very  little  com 
pared  with  all  there  is  to  be  done.  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity  are  all  we  have  to  help  us,  all  we  can  ask  of 
Heaven.  Believe,  hope,  and  help  others  while  you  live, 
and  all  will  go  well  hereafter,  never  fear !  Not  to  help, 
not  to  believe,  not  to  hope,  even  during  one  moment, 
is  to  fail  in  that  moment.  Where  the  sum  is  light,  it  is 
easy  to  count  the  dark  places,  but  not  the  light  itself. 
That  is  what  I  mean,  my  daughter,  when  I  say,  keep 
account  of  your  failures  but  not  of  your  successes.  Try 
to  remember  it.' 

'  Indeed  I  will/  Angela  answered. 

She  went  back  to  her  work,  and  the  Mother  Superior's 
words  thereafter  became  the  rule  of  her  life;  but  she 
was  not  sent  for  again  to  listen  to  a  lecture  on  vanity, 
and  the  small  White  Volcano  was  inclined  to  think  that 
it  had  made  a  mistake  in  breaking  out,  and  inwardly 
offered  a  conditional  apology. 

Angela  worked  hard,  and  made  such  progress  that 
before  the  two  years  of  her  noviciate  were  over  Doctor 
Fieri  said  openly  that  she  was  the  best  surgical  nurse  in 
the  hospital,  and  one  of  the  best  for  ordinary  illnesses, 
considering  how  limited  her  experience  had  been.  The 
nursing  of  wounds  is  more  mechanical  than  the  nursing 
of  a  fever,  for  instance,  and  can  be  sooner  learned  by  a 
beginner,  where  the  surgeon  himself  is  always  at  hand. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  value  of  surgical  nursing  depends 
on  relative  perfection  of  detail  and  rigorous  adluTonrc 
to  the  set  rules  of  prophylaxis,  whereas  other  nursing 
often  requires  that  judgment  which  only  experience  can 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  121 

give.  Surgery  is  a  fine  art  that  has  reached  a  high  de 
gree  of  development  in  the  treatment  of  facts,  about 
which  good  surgeons  are  generally  right.  A  great  deal 
of  noise  is  made  over  surgeons'  occasional  mistakes, 
which  are  advertised  by  their  detractors,  but  we  hear 
little  of  their  steady  and  almost  constant  success.  Medi 
cine,  on  the  other  hand,  must  very  often  proceed  by 
guesswork;  but  for  that  very  reason  it  covers  up  its 
defects  more  anxiously,  and  is  more  inclined  to  talk 
loudly  of  its  victories.  Every  great  physician  admits 
that  a  good  deal  of  his  science  is  psychological;  and 
psychology  deals  with  the  unknown,  or  with  what  is 
only  partially  knowable.  A  mathematician  may  smile 
and  answer  that  '  infinity'  is  much  more  than  partially 
1  unknowable,'  but  that,  by  using  it,  the  differential 
calculus  gives  results  of  most  amazing  accuracy,  and  is 
such  a  simple  affair  that,  if  its  mere  name  did  not  inspire 
terror,  any  fourth-form  schoolboy  could  easily  be  made 
to  understand  it,  and  even  taught  to  use  it.  What  we 
call  the  soul  may  be  infinite  or  infinitesimal,  or  finite,  or 
it  may  be  the  Hegelian  Nothing,  which  is  Pure  Being 
under  another  name;  whatever  it  is,  our  acquaintance 
with  it  is  not  knowledge  of  it,  since  whatever  we  can  find 
out  about  it  is  based  on  the  Criticism  exercised  by  Pure 
Reason  and  not  on  experience;  and  the  information 
which  Pure  Reason  gives  us  about  the  soul  is  not  cate 
gorical  but  antinomial;  and  by  the  time  medicine  gets 
into  these  transcendental  regions,  consciously  or  uncon 
sciously,  it  ceases  to  be  of  much  practical  use  in  curing 
'pernicious  anaemia'  or  any  similarly  obscure  disease. 


122  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

All  this  digression  only  explains  why  Angela  was  a 
better  nurse  in  surgical  cases  than  in  ordinary  illnesses 
after  she  had  been  two  years  in  training;  but  that  cir 
cumstance  is  connected  with  what  happened  to  her  later, 
as  will  be  clear  in  due  time. 

In  most  respects  she  changed  very  little,  so  far  as  any 
one  could  see.  No  one  in  the  convent  knew  how  she 
hoped  against  all  reason,  during  those  two  years,  that 
Giovanni  might  yet  be  heard  of,  though  there  was  not 
the  least  ground  for  supposing  that  he  could  have  es 
caped  when  all  the  others  had  perished;  and  indeed, 
while  she  still  hoped,  she  felt  that  it  was  very  foolish, 
and  when  she  had  a  long  talk  with  Monsignor  Sara- 
cinesca  before  taking  the  veil,  she  did  not  even  speak 
of  such  a  possibility. 

She  had  long  ago  decided  that  she  would  take  the  veil 
at  the  expiration  of  the  two  years,  but  she  wished  to 
define  her  position  clearly  to  the  three  persons  whom  she 
cared  for  and  respected  most.  These  were  Madame 
Bernard,  Monsignor  Saracinesca,  and  the  Mother  Su 
perior,  whose  three  characters  were  as  different  as  it 
would  have  been  possible  to  pick  out  amongst  the 
acquaintance  of  a  lifetime. 

Angela  asked  permission  to  go  with  Madame  Bernard 
to  the  cemetery  of  San  Lorenzo,  where  a  monument 
marked  the  grave  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  the  ex 
pedition.  It  was  a  large  square  pillar  of  dark  marble, 
surmounted  by  a  simple  bronze  cross.  On  the  four  sides 
there  were  bronze  tablets,  on  which  were  engraved  the 
names  of  the  officers  and  men,  and  that  of  Giovanni 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  123 

Seven  was  second,  for  he  had  been  the  second  in  com 
mand. 

No  one  was  near  and  Angela  knelt  down  upon  the 
lowest  of  the  three  steps  that  formed  the  base.  After 
a  moment  Madame  Bernard  knelt  beside  her.  The 
novice's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  bronze  tablet  and  her 
lips  did  not  move.  Her  companion  watched  her  fur 
tively,  expecting  to  see  some  sign  of  profound  emotion, 
or  of  grief  controlled,  or  at  least  the  shadow  of  a  quiet 
sadness.  But  there  was  nothing,  and  after  two  or  three 
minutes  Angela  rose  deliberately,  went  up  the  remaining 
steps,  and  pressed  her  lips  upon  the  first  letters  of 
Giovanni's  name.  She  turned  and  descended  the  steps 
with  a  serene  expression,  as  Madame  Bernard  got  up 
from  her  knees. 

'  Death  was  jealous  of  me,'  Angela  said. 

She  had  never  heard  of  Erinna ;  she  did  not  know  that 
a  maiden  poetess  had  made  almost  those  very  words 
immortal  in  one  lovely  broken  line  that  has  come  down 
to  us  from  five  and  twenty  centuries  ago.  In  the  Ever 
lasting  Return  they  fell  again  from  a  maiden's  lips,  but 
they  roused  no  response;  Madame  Bernard  took  them 
for  a  bit  of  girlish  sentiment,  and  scarcely  heeded  them, 
while  she  wondered  at  Angela's  strangely  calm  manner. 

They  walked  back  slowly  along  the  straight  way  be 
tween  the  tombs. 

1 1  loved  him  living  and  I  love  him  dead,'  said  the  young 
novice  slowly.  'He  cannot  come  back  to  me,  but  some 
day  I  may  go  to  him.' 

'Yes/  answered  Madame  Bernard  without  conviction. 


124  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  next  world  had  always  seemed  very  vague  to  her; 
and  besides,  poor  Giovanni  had  been  a  soldier,  and  she 
knew  something  of  military  men,  and  wondered  where 
they  went  when  they  died. 

'You  are  a  very  good  woman/  Angela  continued, 
following  her  own  train  of  thought;  'do  you  think  it  is 
wrong  for  a  nun  to  love  a  dead  man  ? ' 

'Dear  me!'  exclaimed  the  little  Frenchwoman  in 
some  surprise.  '  How  can  one  love  a  man  who  is  dead  ? 
It  is  impossible ;  consequently  it  is  not  wrong ! ' 

Angela  looked  at  her  quickly  and  then  walked  on. 

'There  is  no  such  thing  as  death/  she  said. 

It  was  Filmore  Durand'sodd  speech  that  had  come  back 
to  her  often  during  two  years;  when  she  repeated  it  to 
herself  she  saw  his  portrait  of  Giovanni,  which  still  hung 
in  Madame  Bernard's  sitting-room,  and  presently  it  was 
not  a  picture  seen  in  memory,  but  Giovanni  himself. 

Madame  Bernard  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  smiled 
vaguely. 

'Death  is  a  fact/  she  said  prosaically.  'It  is  the  rea 
son  why  we  cannot  live  for  ever ! ' 

The  reason  was  not  convincing  to  Angela,  but  as  she 
saw  no  chance  of  being  understood,  she  went  back  to 
the  starting-point. 

'Then  you  do  not  think  it  can  possibly  be  wrong  for  a 
nun  to  love  some  one  who  is  dead  ? '  she  asked,  her  tone 
turning  the  statement  into  a  question. 

'  Of  course  not ! '  cried  the  governess  almost  im 
patiently.  'You  might  as  well  think  yourself  in  love 
with  his  tombstone  and  then  fancy  it  a  sin !' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  125 

So  one  of  Angela's  three  friends  had  answered  her 
question  very  definitely.  The  answer  was  not  worth 
less,  because  Madame  Bernard  was  a  very  honest, 
matter-of-fact  woman;  on  the  contrary,  it  represented 
a  practical  opinion,  and  that  is  always  worth  having, 
though  the  view  it  defines  may  be  limited.  Angela  did 
not  try  to  explain  further  what  she  had  meant,  and 
Madame  Bernard  always  avoided  subjects  she  could 
not  understand.  The  two  chatted  pleasantly  about 
other  things  as  they  returned  to  the  convent,  and  the 
little  Frenchwoman  trotted  contentedly  back  to  her 
lodgings,  feeling  that  the  person  she  loved  best  in  the 
world  was  certain  to  turn  out  a  very  good  and  happy 
nun. 

Angela  was  not  yet  so  sure  of  this,  and  she  took  the 
first  opportunity  of  consulting  Monsignor  Saracinesca. 
They  sat  and  talked  together  on  one  of  the  stone  seats 
in  the  cloistered  garden.  He  is  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a 
thoughtful  face  and  a  quiet  manner.  In  his  youth  he 
was  once  entangled  in  the  quarrels  of  a  Sicilian  family, 
as  I  have  narrated  elsewhere,  and  behaved  with  great 
heroism.  After  that,  he  laboured  for  many  years  as  a 
simple  parish  priest  in  a  fever-plagued  district,  and  he 
only  consented  to  return  to  Rome  when  he  realised  that 
his  health  was  gravely  impaired. 

Angela  put  her  question  with  her  usual  directness 
and  watched  his  face.  He  knew  her  story,  so  that  there 
was  nothing  to  explain. 

'  Is  it  wrong  to  love  him  still  ? '    she  asked.  , 

But  Monsignor  Ippolito  did  not  speak  until  his  silence 


126  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

had  lasted  so  long  that  Angela  was  a  little  frightened; 
not  that  he  had  any  real  doubt  as  to  her  intention,  but 
because  it  was  his  duty  to  examine  such  a  case  of  con 
science  in  all  its  aspects. 

'  What  does  your  own  instinct  tell  you  ? '  he  asked  at 
last. 

'That  it  will  not  be  wrong/  Angela  answered  with 
conviction.  'But  I  may  be  mistaken.  That  is  why  I 
come  to  you  for  advice.' 

Again  the  churchman  mused  in  silence  for  a  while. 

'I  will  tell  you  what  I  think/  he  said,  when  he  had 
made  up  his  mind.  '  There  is  a  condition,  which  de 
pends  only  on  yourself,  and  of  which  you  are  the  only 
judge.  You  ask  my  advice,  but  I  can  only  show  you  how 
to  ask  it  of  your  own  heart.  If  your  love  for  the  man 
who  is  gone  looks  forward,  prays  and  hopes,  it  will  help 
you;  if  it  looks  back  with  tears  for  what  might  have 
been  and  with  longing  for  what  can  never  be,  it  will 
hinder  you.  More  than  that  I  cannot  say.' 

'I  look  forward/  Angela  answered  confidently.  'I 
pray  and  I  hope/ 

'If  you  are  sure  of  that,  you  are  safe/  said  Monsignor 
Saracinesca.  'No  one  but  yourself  can  know.' 

'I  began  to  work  here  hoping  and  praying  that  if  I 
could  do  any  good  at  all  it  might  holp  him,  wherever  he 
is/  Angela  went  on.  'That  is  the  only  vocation  I  ever 
felt,  and  now  I  wish  to  take  the  veil  because  I  think  that 
as  a  professed  nun  I  may  be  able  to  use  better  what  little 
I  have  learned  in  two  years  and  a  half  than  if  I  stay  on 
as  a  lay  sister.  It  is  not  for  myself,  except  in  so  far  as  I 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  127 

know  that  the  only  way  to  help  him  is  to  do  my  best  here. 
As  I  hope  that  God  may  be  merciful  to  him,  so  I  hope 
that  God  will  accept  my  work,  my  prayers,  and  my 
faith.' 

The  prelate  looked  at  the  delicate  face  and  earnest 
eyes,  and  the  quietly  spoken  words  satisfied  him  and  a 
little  more.  There  could  be  nothing  earthly  in  such  love 
as  that,  he  was  sure,  and  such  simple  faith  would  not  be 
disappointed.  It  was  not  the  first  time  in  his  experience 
as  a  priest  that  he  had  known  and  talked  with  a  woman 
from  whom  sudden  death  had  wrenched  the  man  she 
loved,  or  whom  inevitable  circumstances  had  divided 
from  him  beyond  all  hope  of  reunion;  but  he  had  never 
heard  one  speak  just  as  Angela  spoke,  nor  seen  that  look 
in  another  face.  He  was  convinced,  and  felt  that  he 
could  say  nothing  against  her  intention. 

But  she  herself  was  not  absolutely  sure  even  then, 
and  she  went  to  the  Mother  Superior  that  evening  to 
ask  her  question  for  the  last  time.  The  Mother  was 
seated  at  her  writing-table,  and  one  strong  electric 
lamp  shed  its  vivid  light  from  under  a  perfectly  dark 
shade  upon  the  papers  that  lay  under  her  hand  and 
scattered  before  her  —  bills,  household  accounts,  doc 
tors'  and  nurses'  reports,  opened  telegrams,  humble- 
looking  letters  written  on  ruled  paper  and  smart  notes 
in  fashionable  handwritings.  People  who  imagine  that 
the  Mother  Superior  of  a  nursing  order  which  has 
branches  in  many  parts  of  the  world  spends  her  time  in 
meditation  and  prayer  are  much  mistaken. 

'Sit  down,'  said  the  small  white  volcano,  without 


128  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

looking  up  or  lifting  her  thin  forefinger  from  the  column 
of  figures  she  was  checking. 

The  room  would  have  been  very  dark  but  for  the 
light  which  the  white  paper  reflected  upwards  upon  the 
nun's  whiter  face,  and  into  the  dark  air.  Angela  sat 
down  at  a  distance  as  she  was  bidden,  and  waited  some 
minutes,  till  the  Mother  Superior  had  set  her  initials  at 
the  foot  of  the  sheet  with  a  blue  pencil,  and  raised  her 
face  to  peer  into  the  gloom. 

'Who  is  it?'  she  asked  in  a  businesslike  tone,  still 
dazzled  by  the  light. 

'I  am  Angela,  Mother.    May  I  ask  you  a  question?' 

'Yes.' 

The  voice  had  changed  even  in  that  single  word,  and 
was  kind  and  encouraging. 

'Two  years  ago,  before  I  became  a  novice,  you  asked 
me  why  I  wanted  to  be  a  nun,  Mother.  You  thought 
my  intention  was  good.  Now  that  there  is  still  time 
before  I  make  my  profession,  I  have  come  to  ask  you 
once  again  what  you  think/ 

'So  far  as  I  know,  I  think  you  can  be  a  good  nun,' 
answered  the  Mother  Superior  without  waiting  to  hear 
more,  for  she  never  wasted  time  if  she  could  possibly 
help  it. 

Angela  understood  her  and  told  her  story  quickly  and 
clearly,  without  a  quiver  or  an  inflection  of  pain  in  her 
voice.  It  was  necessary,  for  the  Mother  did  not  know  it 
all,  and  listened  with  concentrated  attention.  But  be 
fore  it  was  ended  she  had  made  up  her  mind  what  to  say. 

'My  dear  child,'  said  she,  'I  am  not  your  confessor! 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  129 

And  besides,  I  am  prejudiced,  for  you  are  a  good  nurse 
and  I  need  you  and  wish  you  to  stay.  Do  you  feel  that 
there  is  any  reason  why  you  should  be  less  conscientious 
than  you  have  been  so  far,  if  you  promise  to  go  on  work 
ing  with  us  as  long  as  you  live  ? ' 

'No/  Angela  answered. 

'  Or  that  there  is  any  reason  why  you  should  have  less 
faith  in  God,  less  hope  of  heaven,  or  less  charity  to 
wards  your  fellow-creatures  if  you  promise  to  give  your 
whole  life  to  God,  in  nursing  those  who  suffer,  with  the 
hope  of  salvation  hereafter  ? ' 

'No,  I  do  not  feel  that  there  can  be  any  reason.' 

'Then  do  not  torment  yourself  with  any  more  ques 
tions,  for  life  is  too  short !  To  throw  away  time  is  to 
waste  good,  and  save  evil.  Believe  always,  and  then 
work  with  all  your  might !  Work,  work,  work  !  Work 
done  for  God's  sake  is  prayer  to  God,  and  a  thousand 
hours  on  your  knees  are  not  worth  as  much  as  one  night 
spent  in  helping  a  man  to  live  —  or  to  die  —  when  you 
are  so  tired  that  you  can  hardly  stand,  and  every  bone 
in  your  body  aches,  and  you  are  half-starved  too  !  Work 
for  every  one  who  needs  help,  spare  every  one  but  your 
self,  think  of  every  one  before  yourself.  It  is  easy  to  do 
less  than  your  best,  it  is  impossible  to  do  more,  and  yet 
you  must  try  to  do  more,  always  more,  till  the  end ! 
That  should  be  a  nun's  life.' 

The  Mother  Superior  had  led  that  life  till  it  was  little 
less  than  a  miracle  that  she  was  still  alive  herself,  and 
altogether  a  wonder  that  her  fiery  energy  had  not  eaten 
up  the  small  frail  earthly  part  of  her  long  ago. 


130  THE   WHITE  SISTER 

'  But  it  must  not  be  for  the  sake  of  the  end/  she  went 
on,  before  Angela  could  speak,  '  else  you  will  be  working 
only  for  the  hope  of  rest,  and  you  will  try  to  kill  yourself 
with  work,  to  rest  the  sooner !  You  must  think  of  what 
you  are  doing  because  it  is  for  others,  not  for  what  it  will 
bring  you  by  and  by,  God  willing.  Pray  to  live  long 
and  to  do  much  more  before  you  die,  if  it  be  good;  for 
there  is  no  end  of  the  sickness  and  suffering  and  pain  in 
this  world;  but  few  are  willing  to  help,  and  fewer  still 
know  how ! ' 

She  was  silent,  but  her  eyes  were  speaking  still  as 
Angela  saw  them  looking  at  her  over  the  shaded  light, 
her  pale  features  illuminated  only  by  the  soft  reflection 
from  the  paper  on  the  table. 

The  young  girl  felt  a  deep  and  affectionate  admiration 
for  her,  and  resolved  never  to  forget  the  brave  words, 
but  to  treasure  them  with  those  others  spoken  two  years 
ago:  'Count  your  failures  but  not  your  successes.' 

She  rose  to  take  her  leave,  and,  standing  before  the 
writing-table,  with  each  hand  hidden  in  the  opposite 
sleeve,  she  bent  her  head  respectfully. 

'Thank  you,  Mother/  she  said. 

The  nun  nodded  gravely,  still  looking  at  her,  but  said 
nothing  more,  and  Angela  left  the  room,  shutting  the 
door  without  noise.  The  Mother  Superior  did  not  go 
back  to  her  accounts  at  once,  though  her  hand  mechani 
cally  drew  the  next  sheet  from  the  pile,  so  that  it  lay 
ready  before  her.  She  was  thinking  of  her  own  begin 
nings,  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  and  comparing  her 
own  ardent  nature  with  what  she  knew  of  Angela's; 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  131 

and  then,  out  of  her  great  experience  of  character,  a 
doubt  arose  and  troubled  her  strangely,  though  she 
opposed  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  temptation  to  injustice, 
or  at  least  to  ungenerous  thinking.  It  was  a  suspicion 
that  such  marvellous  calm  as  this  novice  showed  could 
not  be  all  real;  that  there  was  something  not  quite  ex 
plicable  about  her  perfect  submission,  humility,  and 
obedience;  that  under  the  saintly  exterior  a  fire  might 
be  smouldering  which  would  break  out  irresistibly  some 
day,  and  not  for  good. 

The  woman  who  had  been  tried  doubted  the  untried 
novice.  Perhaps  it  was  nothing  more  than  that,  and 
natural  enough;  but  it  was  very  disturbing,  because 
she  also  felt  herself  strongly  attached  to  Angela,  and  to 
suspect  her  seemed  not  only  unfair,  but  disloyal.  Yet 
it  was  the  bounden  duty  of  the  Mother  to  study  the  char 
acters  of  all  who  lived  under  her  authority  and  direction, 
and  to  forestall  their  possible  shortcomings  by  a  warn 
ing,  an  admonition,  or  an  encouraging  word,  as  the  case 
might  be. 

She  had  done  what  she  could,  but  she  was  dissatisfied 
with  herself ;  and  at  the  very  moment  when  Angela  was 
inwardly  repeating  her  stirring  words  and  committing 
them  to  memory  for  her  lifetime,  the  woman  who  had 
spoken  them  was  tormented  by  the  thought  that  she 
had  not  said  half  enough,  or  still  worse,  that  she  had  per 
haps  made  a  mistake  altogether.  For  the  first  time 
since  she  had  fought  her  first  great  battle  with  herself, 
she  had  the  sensation  of  being  near  a  mysterious  force 
of  nature  which  she  did  not  understand;  but  she  had 


132  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

been  twenty  years  younger  then,  and  the  present  issue 
was  not  to  depend  on  her  own  strength  but  on  another's, 
and  it  involved  the  salvation  of  another's  soul. 

It  was  long  before  she  bent  over  the  columns  of 
figures  again,  yet  she  did  not  reproach  herself  with 
having  wasted  time.  The  first  of  all  her  many  duties, 
and  the  most  arduous,  was  to  think  for  others ;  to  work 
for  them  was  a  hundred  times  easier  and  was  rest  and 
refreshment  by  contrast. 

Angela  would  have  been  very  much  surprised  if  she 
could  have  known  what  was  passing  in  the  Mother 
Superior's  mind,  while  she  herself  felt  nothing  but 
relief  and  satisfaction  because  her  decision  had  now 
become  irrevocable.  If  she  had  been  bidden  to  wait 
another  year,  she  would  have  waited  patiently  and  with 
out  a  murmur,  because  she  could  not  be  satisfied  with 
anything  less  than  apparent  certainty ;  but  instead,  she 
had  been  encouraged  to  take  the  final  step,  after  which 
there  could  be  no  return. 

That  was  the  inevitable.  Human  destiny  is  most 
tragic  when  the  men  and  women  concerned  are  doing 
their  very  utmost  to  act  bravely  and  uprightly,  while 
each  is  in  reality  bringing  calamity  on  the  other. 

Acting  on  the  only  evidence  she  had  a  right  to  trust, 
the  Mother  Superior  knew  that  she  would  not  be  justi 
fied  in  hindering  Angela  from  taking  the  veil.  Few  had 
ever  done  so  well  in  the  noviciate,  none  had  ever  done 
better,  and  her  natural  talent  for  the  profession  of  nurs 
ing  was  altogether  unusual.  There  had  never  been  one 
like  her  in  the  hospital.  As  for  her  character,  she 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  133 

seemed  to  have  no  vanity,  no  jealousy,  no  temper,  no 
moodiness.  The  Mother  had  never  known  such  an  even 
and  well-balanced  disposition  as  hers.  Would  it  have 
been  wise  to  keep  her  back  longer,  because  she  seemed  too 
perfect  ?  Would  it  have  been  just  ?  Would  it  not,  indeed, 
have  been  very  wrong  to  risk  discouraging  her,  now  that 
she  was  quite  ready  ?  She  was  almost  twenty-one  years 
old  and  had  taken  no  step  hastily.  More  than  two  years 
and  a  half  had  passed  since  she  had  entered  the  con 
vent,  and  in  all  that  time  no  one  had  been  able  to  detect 
the  smallest  fault  in  her,  either  of  weakness  or  of  hasti 
ness,  still  less  of  anything  like  the  pride  she  might  ac 
tually  have  felt  in  her  superiority.  To  keep  her  back  now 
would  be  to  accuse  perfection  of  being  imperfect; 
it  would  be  as  irrational  as  to  call  excellence  a  failing. 
More  than  that,  it  would  have  a  bad  effect  on  the  whole 
community,  a  danger  which  could  not  be  overlooked. 

Three  years  later,  the  Mother  understood  the  warn 
ing  doubt  that  had  assailed  her;  and  when  a  precious 
life  was  in  the  balance  she  put  herself  on  trial  before  her 
judging  conscience  and  the  witness  of  her  memory.  But 
though  the  judge  was  severe  and  the  testimony  unerring, 
they  acquitted  her  of  all  blame,  and  told  her  that  she 
had  acted  for  the  best,  according  to  her  light,  on  that 
memorable  evening. 

Within  less  than  a  month  Angela  took  the  veil  in  the 
convent  church,  and  thenceforth  she  was  Sister  Gio- 
vanna,  for  that  was  the  name  she  chose. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FIVE  years  after  Giovanni  Severi  had  left  Rome  to 
join  the  ill-fated  expedition  in  Africa,  his  brother  Ugo 
obtained  his  captaincy  and  at  the  same  time  was  placed 
in  charge  of  the  powder  magazine  at  Monteverde,  which 
Sister  Giovanna  could  see  in  the  distance  from  her 
latticed  window.  The  post  was  of  considerable  impor 
tance,  but  was  not  coveted  because  it  required  the 
officer  wjio  held  it  to  live  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  city,  with  no  means  of  getting  into  town  which 
he  could  not  provide  for  himself;  for  there  is  no  train- 
way  leading  down  the  right  bank  of  the  Tiber.  The 
magazine  was  actually  guarded  by  a  small  detachment  of 
artillery  under  two  subalterns  who  took  the  night  duty 
by  turns,  and  both  officers  and  men  were  relieved  at 
regular  intervals  by  others;  but  the  captain  in  com 
mand  held  his  post  permanently  and  lived  in  a  little 
house  by  himself,  a  stone's  throw  from  the  gate  of  the 
large  walled  enclosure  in  which  the  low  buildings  stood. 
For  some  time  it  had  boon  intended  to  build  a  small 
residence  for  the  officer  in  charge,  but  this  had  not  been 
begun  at  the  date  from  which  I  now  take  up  my  story. 
The  neighbourhood  is  a  lonely  one,  but  there  are 
farm-houses  scattered  about  at  varying  distances  from 
the  high-road  which  follows  the  river,  mostly  in  the 

134 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  135 

neighbourhood  of  the  hill  that  bears  the  name  of  Monte- 
verde  and  seems  to  have  been  the  site  of  a  villa  in  which 
Julius  Csesar  entertained  Cleopatra. 

As  every  one  will  understand,  Ugo  Seven's  duties 
consisted  in  keeping  an  account  of  the  ammunition  and 
explosives  deposited  in  the  vaults  of  the  magazine  and 
in  exercising  the  utmost  vigilance  against  fire  and  other 
accidents.  The  rule  against  smoking,  for  instance,  did 
not  apply  outside  the  enclosure,  but  Ugo  gave  up  ciga 
rettes,  even  in  his  own  house,  as  soon  as  he  was  ap 
pointed  to  the  post,  and  took  care  that  every  one  should 
know  that  he  had  done  so. 

He  was  a  hard-working,  hard-reading,  rather  melan 
cholic  man  who  had  never  cared  much  for  society  and 
preferred  solitude  to  a  club ;  a  fair  man,  with  the  face  of 
a  student  and  not  over  robust,  but  nevertheless  energetic 
and  determined  where  his  duty  was  concerned.  He 
lived  alone  in  the  little  house,  with  his  orderly,  a  clever 
Sicilian,  who  cooked  for  him ;  a  peasant  woman  from  a 
neighbouring  farm-house  came  every  morning  to  sweep 
the  rooms,  make  the  two  beds,  and  scrub  the  two  stone 
steps  before  the  door  and  clean  the  kitchen. 

The  house  was  like  hundreds  of  other  little  houses  in 
the  Campagna.  On  the  ground  floor  there  was  a  cross- 
vaulted  hall  where  the  Captain  transacted  business  and 
received  the  reports  of  the  watch;  there  was  a  tiny 
kitchen  also,  a  stable  at  the  back  for  two  horses,  and  a 
narrow  chamber  adjoining  it,  in  which  Pica,  the  orderly, 
slept.  Upstairs  there  was  only  one  story,  consisting  of 
a  large  room  with  a  loggia  looking  across  the  river 


136  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

towards  San  Paolo,  a  bedroom  of  moderate  dimensions, 
and  a  dressing-room. 

The  place  was  more  luxuriously  furnished  than  might 
have  been  expected,  for  though  Captain  Ugo  was  not  a 
rich  man,  he  was  by  no  means  dependent  on  his  pay. 
General  Seven  had  lived  to  retrieve  a  part  of  his  fortune, 
and  had  died  rather  suddenly  of  heart-failure  after  a  bad 
attack  of  influenza,  leaving  his  property  to  be  divided 
equally  between  his  two  surviving  sons  and  their  sister. 
The  latter  had  married  away  from  Rome,  and  Ugo's 
younger  brother  was  in  the  navy,  so  that  he  was  now  the 
only  member  of  his  family  left  in  Rome. 

He  was  a  man  of  taste  and  reading,  who  had  entered 
the  army  to  please  his  father  and  would  have  left  it  on 
the  latter's  death  if  he  had  not  been  persuaded  by  his 
superiors  that  he  had  a  brilliant  career  before  him  and 
might  be  a  general  at  fifty,  if  he  stuck  to  the  service. 
He  had  answered  that  he  would  do  so  if  he  might  have 
some  post  of  trust  in  which  he  would  have  time  for 
study;  the  command  of  the  magazine  at  Monteverde 
was  vacant  just  then,  and  as  no  more  influential  person 
wanted  to  live  in  such  a  dull  place,  he  got  it. 

Yet  his  house  was  not  much  more  than  a  mile  from 
the  gate,  by  a  good  high-road;  whence  it  is  clear  that 
his  solitude  was  a  matter  of  choice  and  not  of  necessity. 
He  had  few  friends,  however,  and  none  who  showed  any 
inclination  to  come  and  see  him,  though  his  acquaint 
ances  were  numerous;  for  he  had  been  rather  popular 
in  society  when  a  young  subaltern,  and  had  been  wel 
come  wherever  his  elder  brother  Giovanni  took  him. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  137 

Giovanni  had  been  very  reticent  about  his  affairs, 
even  with  his  own  family,  and  during  that  last  winter  in 
Rome,  when  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  Angela  Chiaro- 
monte,  Ugo  had  been  stationed  in  Pavia  and  had  known 
nothing  of  the  affair.  Ugo  had  a  vague  recollection 
that  Giovanni  was  supposed  to  have  been  unduly  de 
voted  to  the  gay  Marchesa  del  Prato  when  he  had  been 
a  mere  stripling  of  a  sub-lieutenant,  fresh  from  the  Mili 
tary  Academy  and  barely  twenty,  though  the  Marchesa 
had  been  well  over  thirty,  even  then.  Ugo  had  been 
introduced  to  her  long  afterwards,  when  she  was  the 
Princess  Chiaromonte,  and  she  had  shown  that  she  liked 
him,  and  had  asked  him  to  a  dance,  to  which  he  had  not 
gone  simply  because  he  had  given  up  dancing. 

The  Princess,  however,  had  misunderstood  his  reason 
for  not  accepting  her  invitation  and  had  supposed  that 
he  kept  away  because  he  had  known  Angela's  story  and 
resented,  for  his  brother's  sake,  the  treatment  the  girl 
had  received.  In  an  hour  of  idleness,  it  now  occurred 
to  her  that  she  might  find  out  whether  she  had  been 
mistaken  in  this. 

For  some  one  had  spoken  of  Giovanni  on  the  previous 
evening,  in  connection  with  a  report  that  had  lately 
reached  Rome  to  the  effect  that  an  Italian  officer, 
hitherto  supposed  to  have  been  among  the  dead  after 
the  battle  of  Dogali,  had  been  heard  of  and  was  living 
in  slavery  somewhere  in  the  interior  of  Africa.  A  news 
paper  had  made  a  good  story  of  the  matter,  out  of  next 
to  nothing,  and  it  had  been  a  subject  of  conversation 
during  two  or  three  days.  The  lady  who  told  it  to  the 


138  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Princess  Chiaromonte  had  been  one  of  her  most  assid 
uous  and  intimate  enemies  for  years,  and,  in  order  to 
make  her  uncomfortable,  advanced  the  theory  that  the 
officer  in  question  was  no  other  than  Giovanni  Severi 
himself. 

The  Princess  was  not  so  easily  disturbed,  however, 
and  smiled  in  her  designing  friend's  face.  The  poor 
man  was  dead  and  buried,  she  said,  and  every  one  knew 
it.  The  report  rested  on  nothing  more  substantial  than 
a  letter  said  to  have  been  written  by  an  English  traveller 
and  lion-hunter  to  one  of  the  secretaries  at  the  British 
Embassy  in  Washington,  who  was  said,  again,  to  have 
mentioned  the  fact  to  an  Italian  colleague,  who  had 
repeated  it  in  writing  to  his  sister,  who  lived  some 
where  in  Piedmont  and  had  spoken  of  it  to  some  one 
else;  and  so  on,  till  the  story  had  reached  the  ears  of 
a  newspaper  paragraph-writer  who  was  hard  up  for  a 
'stick'  of  'copy.'  All  this  the  Princess  knew,  or  in 
vented,  and  she  ran  off  her  explanation  with  a  fluency 
that  disconcerted  her  assailant. 

The  immediate  result  was  that  she  bethought  her  of 
Ugo  Severi,  whom  she  had  passed  lately  in  her  motor  as 
he  was  riding  leisurely  along  the  road  beyond  Monte- 
verde.  She  had  noticed  him  because  her  chauffeur 
had  slackened  speed  a  little,  and  she  had  nodded  to  him, 
though  it  was  not  likely  that  he  should  recognise  her 
face  through  her  veil.  She  had  thought  no  more  about 
him  at  the  time,  but  she  now  telephoned  to  a  friend  at 
headquarters  to  find  out  where  he  was  living,  and  she 
soon  learned  that  he  was  in  charge  of  the  magazine. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  139 

After  a  little  reflection,  she  wrote  him  a  note,  recalling 
their  acquaintance  and  the  fact  that  she  had  known  his 
poor  brother  very  well.  She  had  never  seen  a  powder 
magazine,  she  said;  would  he  show  the  one  at  Monte- 
verde  to  her  and  two  or  three  friends,  next  Wednes 
day? 

Ugo  answered  politely  that  this  was  quite  impossible 
without  a  special  permission  from  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  or  the  War  Office,  and  that  he  greatly  regretted 
his  inability  to  comply  with  her  request.  As  he  was  a 
punctilious  man,  though  he  lived  almost  like  a  hermit, 
he  took  the  trouble  to  send  his  orderly  into  the  city  on 
the  following  afternoon  with  a  couple  of  cards  to  be  left 
at  the  Palazzo  Chiaromonte  for  the  Prince  and  Princess, 
in  accordance  with  Roman  social  custom. 

A  few  days  later  a  smart  ' limousine'  drew  up  to  the 
door  of  Ugo's  little  house  and  a  footman  rang  the  old- 
fashioned  bell,  which  went  on  tinkling  in  the  distance  for 
a  long  time  after  the  rusty  chain  had  been  pulled.  Ugo's 
Sicilian  orderly  opened  the  door  at  last  in  a  leisurely  way 
and  appeared  on  the  threshold  in  grey  linen  fatigue  dress ; 
on  seeing  the  car  and  the  Princess  he  straightened  him 
self  and  saluted. 

His  master  was  riding,  he  said,  and  would  not  come 
home  for  an  hour.  The  Princess  wrote  a  message  on  a 
card,  asking  if  Ugo  would  come  and  see  her  any  day 
after  five  o'clock,  and  she  wrote  down  the  number  of  her 
telephone.  She  gave  the  card  to  the  man,  and  by  way 
of  impressing  its  importance  on  him,  added  that  she  was 
a  very  old  friend  of  the  family  and  had  known  the 


140  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Captain's  mother  as  well  as  the  brother  who  had  been  lost 
in  Africa.  She  also  smiled  sweetly,  for  the  Sicilian  was 
a  handsome  young  man;  she  had  a  way  of  smiling 
at  handsome  men  when  she  was  speaking  to  them, 
especially  if  she  wished  them  to  remember  what  she  said. 

When  the  car  was  gone,  Salvatore  Pica,  the  orderly, 
shut  the  door  and  went  into  the  hall  where  the  telephone 
was.  He  looked  at  the  visiting  card  before  leaving  it  on 
the  brass  salver  on  the  table,  where  letters  and  reports 
were  placed  for  the  Captain  whenever  he  was  out;  and 
being  an  intelligent  man  and  considerably  impressed  by 
what  the  Princess  had  told  him,  he  promptly  wrote  the 
name,  address,  and  telephone  number  in  the  address- 
book  which  hung  by  a  string  beside  the  instrument. 
For  Ugo  never  telephoned  himself  if  he  could  help  it, 
and  was  careless  about  addresses,  which  it  was  Pica's 
business  to  copy  and  have  at  hand  when  needed. 

Moreover,  the  Princess  had  represented  herself  as 
being  a  very  old  friend  of  the  Captain's  family,  and  Pica 
mentally  noted  the  fact,  because  he  had  often  wondered 
that  his  master  should  apparently  have  no  intimate 
friends  at  all,  though  he  was  evidently  respected  and 
liked  by  his  brother-officers. 

When  Ugo  came  home  and  dismounted  at  the  door, 
Pica  at  once  told  him  of  the  Princess's  visit,  repeating 
her  message  without  a  mistake,  and  adding  that  he  had 
copied  her  name  and  address  in  the  telephone-book. 
The  Captain  nodded  gravely  and  looked  at  the  card 
before  he  went  upstairs,  but  said  nothing  to  his  num. 
Being  very  careful  and  punctilious  in  such  matters,  as  I 


THE   WHITE  SISTER  141 

have  said,  he  wrote  a  line  that  evening,  thanking  the 
Princess  for  her  kind  invitation  and  saying  that  he 
hoped  to  avail  himself  of  it  some  day,  but  that  he  was 
very  busy  just  at  present.  This  was  true,  in  a  sense, 
for  he  had  just  received  an  important  new  book  in  two 
thick  volumes,  which  he  was  anxious  to  read  without 
delay.  The  fact  that  it  was  an  exhaustive  history  of 
Confucianism,  and  could  not  be  considered  as  bearing  on 
his  professional  duties,  was  not  likely  to  interest  the 
Princess. 

She  was  not  used  to  such  rebuffs,  however,  and  before 
long  she  made  another  attempt.  This  time  she  herself 
called  up  Pica  and  asked  him  at  what  hour  the  Captain 
could  see  her  on  a  matter  of  importance.  When  the 
orderly  delivered  the  message,  Severi  was  at  first  in 
clined  to  make  an  excuse ;  but  the  Princess's  persistency 
in  trying  to  see  him  was  obvious,  and  as  he  thought  it 
possible  that  she  might  wish  to  ask  him  some  question 
relating  to  Giovanni,  he  bade  Pica  answer  that  he  would 
stay  at  home  that  afternoon,  if  it  suited  her  convenience 
to  come.  She  replied  that  she  would  appear  about  four 
o'clock. 

Ugo  was  buried  in  the  history  of  Confucianism  when 
his  man  came  to  tell  him  this,  and  he  merely  nodded,  but 
looked  up  quickly  when  Pica  turned  to  the  door. 

'  Shave  and  dress/  he  said  laconically,  and  at  once 
began  to  read  again. 

It  was  the  order  he  gave  when  he  expected  the  visit 
of  a  superior  officer,  for  as  a  rule  Pica  only  shaved  twice 
a  week,  and  never  put  on  a  cloth  tunic  except  when 


142  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

he  had  leave  for  the  afternoon  and  evening.  The  little 
house  at  Monteverde  was  a  lonely  place  and  the  soldier 
did  no  military  duty,  living  the  life  of  an  ordinary  house 
servant.  It  was  a  good  place,  for  the  Captain  was  gen 
erous. 

With  an  affectation  of  extreme  punctuality,  the 
Princess's  footman  rang  the  bell  at  four  o'clock  pre 
cisely,  and  almost  before  the  distant  tinkle  was  heard 
Pica  opened  the  door  wide  and  saluted  the  visitor,  flat 
tening  himself  against  the  door-post  to  give  her  plenty 
of  room.  He  looked  very  smart  in  his  best  uniform,  and 
she  smiled  and  glanced  at  his  handsome  Saracen  face 
as  she  passed  in.  He  shut  the  door  at  once,  leaving  the 
footman  outside. 

At  the  same  moment  Captain  Seven  was  descending 
the  short  flight  of  stone  steps  to  meet  her.  He  was  not 
very  like  Giovanni,  but  in  the  half-light  the  Princess 
saw  a  resemblance  that  made  her  start.  Ugo  was  less 
energetically  built,  but  he  wore  his  uniform  well  and 
there  was  much  in  his  gait  and  the  outline  of  his  figure 
that  recalled  his  brother. 

The  Princess  took  his  hand  almost  affectionately  and 
held  it  in  silence  for  a  moment  while  she  looked  into  his 
mild  blue  eyes.  Pica  noticed  her  manner,  which  cer 
tainly  confirmed  what  she  had  said  about  being  a  friend 
of  the  family. 

The  mere  suggestion  of  a  delicate  and  exotic  perfume 
had  floated  into  the  house  with  her.  At  first  it  faintly 
recalled  Indian  river  grass,  but  presently  Ugo  thought 
it  reminded  him  of  muscatel  grapes,  and  then  again  of 


THE  WHITE   SISTER  143 

dried  rose  leaves  and  violets.  She  smiled  as  she  with 
drew  her  hand,  and  spoke. 

'You  did  not  guess  that  a  woman  could  be  so  per 
sistent,  did  you  ? ' 

Ugo  also  smiled,  but  without  cordiality,  and  then  led 
the  way  upstairs.  On  reaching  the  large  room,  the 
Princess  looked  about  her,  judged  the  man,  and  at  once 
expressed  her  admiration  for  his  good  sense  in  leading  a 
student's  life,  instead  of  squandering  his  time  in  the 
futilities  of  society. 

The  Captain  did  not  ask  her  what  she  wanted  of 
him,  but  offered  to  make  tea  for  her,  and  she  saw  that 
a  little  table  had  been  set  for  the  purpose.  Everything 
was  very  simple,  but  looked  so  serviceable  that  she 
accepted,  judging  that  she  ran  no  risk  of  being  poisoned. 
In  Italy  it  is  only  society  that  drinks  tea.  It  was  a 
little  early  for  it,  but  that  did  not  matter.  The  water 
was  boiling  in  a  small  copper  kettle  shaped  like  a  flat 
sponge-cake,  the  tea-caddy  was  Japanese,  and  the  tea 
pot  was  of  plain  brown  earthenware,  but  the  two  cups  were 
of  rare  old  Capodimonte  and  the  spoons  were  evidently 
English.  She  noticed  also  that  the  sugar  was  of  the 
1  crystallised '  kind,  and  was  in  a  curiously  chiselled  silver 
bowl.  The  Princess  had  a  good  eye  for  details. 

'You  seem  to  have  made  yourself  very  comfortable 
in  your  remote  little  house,'  she  laughed,  with  approval. 

'I  only  hope  that  you  may  be,  as  long  as  you  please 
to  stay/  he  answered,  making  the  tea  scientifically. 

It  was  very  good,  and  she  chatted  idly  while  she 
slowly  drank  it  and  nibbled  a  thin,  crisp  biscuit.  When 


144  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

she  had  finished  he  took  her  cup  and  offered  to  refill  it, 
but  she  declined  and  leaned  back  comfortably  in  the  big 
red  leather  easy-chair. 

'I  daresay  you  heard  that  story  about  an  officer  who 
is  reported  to  be  living  in  slavery  in  Africa  ? '  she  said, 
her  tone  changing  and  becoming  very  grave. 

Ugo  had  read  of  it  in  the  newspapers. 

1  Did  it  occur  to  you,  as  it  did  to  me,  that  he  might  be 
Giovanni  ? '  she  asked. 

It  had  occurred  to  him  and  he  had  made  inquiries  at 
the  War  Office,  but  had  been  told  that  the  story  had  no 
foundation.  He  had  expected  no  other  answer.  The 
Princess  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

'One  grasps  at  straws/  she  said  presently,  in  a  low 
voice. 

He  understood  that  she  had  really  cared  for  his  brother, 
and  looked  at  her  with  more  interest  than  he  had  hitherto 
shown. 

'  I  am  afraid  that  there  is  not  the  slightest  possibility 
of  his  being  alive/  he  said,  with  a  sadness  in  which  there 
was  also  some  sympathy  for  her. 

She  had  hoped  for  an  indiscreet  question,  which  would 
allow  her  to  say  something  more.  It  was  of  no  mil 
importance  to  her  to  know  whether  he  bore  her  any 
grudge  or  not,  but  since  she  had  taken  so  much  trouble1 
to  see  him  she  did  not  mean  to  go  away  without  knowing 
the  truth,  and  though  her  curiosity  was  a  mere  caprice, 
it  was  perhaps  not  a  very  unreasonable  one. 

'Had  you  seen  much  of  him  during  the  last  months 
before  he  went  to  Africa  ? '  she  asked.  '  I  did  not  know 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  145 

you  till  long  after  that,  you  know.  I  think  you  were 
always  away  ? ' 

'I  was  stationed  in  Pavia/  the  Captain  answered. 
'  Giovanni  joined  the  expedition  at  short  notice  and  I 
was  not  able  to  see  him  before  he  started.  I  have  always 
regretted  it,  for  we  had  not  met  for  eighteen  months.' 

'  You  were  never  very  intimate,  I  suppose  ? '  suggested 
the  Princess. 

'We  were  always  very  good  friends,  but  after  he  was 
appointed  to  the  Staff  we  saw  little  of  each  other/ 

The  Princess  mused  in  silence  for  a  few  moments. 

'I  was  very  fond  of  him,'  she  said  at  last.  'Did  he 
ever  talk  about  me  to  you  ? ' 

'No,'  Ugo  answered.     'Not  that  I  can  remember.' 

Their  eyes  met  and  she  saw  that  he  was  telling  the 
truth,  as,  in  fact,  he  always  did. 

'  I  suppose  you  have  heard  that  he  was  in  love  with  my 
poor  niece,  who  went  into  a  convent  after  he  was  lost  ? ' 
she  said  tentatively,  and  watching  his  face. 

'  Indeed  ? '  He  showed  more  interest.  '  I  never  heard 
of  that.  Were  they  engaged  to  be  married  ? ' 

'No.  At  least,  there  was  no  formal  engagement. 
My  brother-in-law  was  killed  in  a  motor  accident  just 
at  that  time.  Then  Giovanni  went  to  Massowah,  and 
you  know  the  rest.  But  they  were  very  much  in  love 
with  each  other,  and  Angela  was  broken-hearted.7 

She  now  knew  what  she  had  come  to  find  out,  and  she 
did  not  care  to  rouse  his  curiosity  as  to  her  own  share  in 
the  story,  since  no  gossip  had  taken  the  trouble  to  en 
lighten  him. 


146  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'Has  she  taken  permanent  vows? '  he  asked. 

'Yes.  Three  years  ago,  and  now  it  is  said  that  she 
means  to  go  out  to  the  Rangoon  Leper  Hospital.  I 
daresay  you  have  heard  that  a  good  many  nuns  do  that. 
It  is  almost  certain  death  and  we  all  feel  very  badly 
about  Angela.' 

'Poor  girl!'  exclaimed  Ugo.  'She  must  have  cared 
for  him  so  much  that  she  is  tired  of  living.  Very  few 
of  those  Sisters  ever  come  back,  I  believe.' 

'None,'  said  the  Princess  Chiaromonte  in  a  tone  that 
would  certainly  have  arrested  his  attention  if  he  had 
known  everything.  '  It  is  the  saddest  thing  in  the  world,' 
she  went  on  quickly,  fearing  that  her  hatred  had  be 
trayed  itself.  'To  think  that  year  after  year  those  good 
women  voluntarily  go  to  certain  death !  And  not  even 
to  save  life,  for  lepers  cannot  be  cured,  you  know. 
The  most  that  can  be  done  is  to  alleviate  their  suffer 
ing!' 

She  said  this  very  well,  though  the  words  were  hack 
neyed. 

'It  is  heroic/  said  Captain  Ugo  quietly. 

She  stayed  some  time  longer,  and  he  showed  her  the 
finest  of  his  books  and  a  number  of  old  engravings  and 
etchings;  and  these  really  impressed  her  because  she 
knew  something  of  their  current  value,  which  was  her 
only  standard  in  judging  works  of  art.  At  last  she 
showed  that  she  was  thinking  of  going.  Women  of  the 
world  generally  give  warning  of  their  approaching  de 
parture,  as  an  occr.n  steamer  blows  its  horn  at  intervals 
before  it  starts.  The  Princess's  voice  was  suddenly 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  147 

colourless  and  what  she  said  became  more  and  more 
general,  till  she  observed  that  it  was  really  a  lovely  day. 
She  looked  down  at  her  skirt  critically  and  then  glanced 
quickly  at  the  walls,  one  after  another.  When  you  do 
not  know  what  a  woman  is  looking  for  in  an  unfamiliar 
drawing-room,  it  is  a  mirror  to  see  whether  her  hat  is 
straight.  The  Princess  saw  none  and  rose  gracefully 
out  of  the  deep  easy-chair. 

'  It  has  been  such  a  great  pleasure  to  see  you ! '  she 
said,  the  cordiality  returning  to  her  tone  as  soon  as  she 
was  on  her  feet. 

'  I  am  very  much  obliged  for  your  visit/  Ugo  answered 
politely,  because  nothing  else  occurred  to  him  to  say, 
and  he  clapped  his  heels  together  with  a  jingle  of  his 
spurs  as  he  took  her  proffered  hand. 

He  was  neither  shy  nor  dull  of  comprehension  where 
women  were  concerned,  and  he  understood  quite  well 
that  she  had  not  come  with  the  intention  of  making  an 
impression  on  him,  nor  out  of  mere  curiosity  to  see  what 
Giovanni's  brother  was  like.  He  knew  what  her  reputa 
tion  had  been,  but  he  did  not  know  whether  she  had 
retired  from  the  lists  at  last  or  still  kept  the  field;  and 
he  cared  very  little,  though  he  had  sometimes  reflected 
that  whereas  Balzac  had  written  of  the  Woman  of 
Thirty,  the  '  woman  of  forty  '  was  still  to  be  studied  by 
a  clever  novelist ;  unless,  indeed,  Sophocles  had  made  an 
end  of  her  for  ever  when  Jocasta  hanged  herself.  One 
thing,  however,  was  clear:  the  Princess  had  not  sought 
him  out  with  any  idea  of  casting  upon  him  the  spell  of  a 
flirtation  to  make  him  a  sort  of  posthumous  substitute 


148  TIIK  WHITE  SISTER 

for  his  brother.  She  had  faced  the  li;.rlit  boldly  several 
times  in  the  course  of  her  visit,  so  that  he  had  seen  the 
fine  lines  of  middle  age  about  her  mouth  and  eyes  very 
distinctly,  and  she  had  not  made  any  attempt  to  show 
herself  off  before  him,  nor  to  lead  him  on  with  subdued 
confidences  concerning  the  human  affections  as  she  had 
known  them.  He  believed  that  she  had  come  to  find 
out  whether  he  thought  that  Giovanni  might  possibly 
be  alive  or  not,  and  he  rather  liked  her  for  what  seemed 
to  him  her  frankness  and  courage,  and  was  unconsciously 
flattered,  as  the  best  men  may  be,  by  her  trusting  him 
so  simply. 

No  doubt  it  might  be  true  that  since  the  world  had  put 
up  with  her  rather  reckless  behaviour  for  over  fifteen 
years,  her  reputation  would  not  be  lost  at  this  late  date 
by  her  spending  an  hour  at  the  rooms  of  an  officer  who 
was  quartered  out  of  town.  No  doubt,  too,  that  same 
reputation  was  a  coat  of  many  colours,  on  which  one 
small  stain  more  would  scarcely  show  at  all,  but  she  had 
never  been  in  the  habit  of  risking  spots  for  nothing. 
Moreover,  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  men  are  better  pleased 
at  being  trusted  by  a  clever  woman  who  has  had  many 
adventures  than  when  an  angel  of  virtue  places  her  good 
name  under  their  protection:  there  is  less  irksome 
tonsibility  in  playing  confidant  to  Lady  Jezebel  thnii 
in  being  guardian  to  the  impeccable  Lucretia. 

If  nothing  more  had  happened,  the  Princess's  visit 
would  have  had  little  or  no  importance  in  this  story; 
but  as  things  turned  cut,  the  incident  was  one  of  the 
links  in  a  chain  of  events  which  led  to  a  singularly  un- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  149 

expected  and  dramatic  conclusion,  as  will  before  long 
clearly  appear. 

Fate  often  behaves  like  a  big  old  lion,  when  he  opens 
his  sleepy  eyes  and  catches  a  first  sight  of  you  as  he  lies 
alone,  far  out  on  the  plain.  He  lifts  his  tawny  head  and 
gazes  at  you  quietly  for  several  seconds  and  then  lowers 
it  as  if  not  caring  what  you  do.  You  creep  nearer, 
cautiously,  noiselessly,  and  holding  your  breath,  till 
some  faint  noise  you  make  rouses  his  attention  again  and 
he  takes  another  look  at  you,  longer  this  time  and  much 
less  lazy,  while  you  stand  motionless.  Nevertheless, 
you  are  only  a  man,  and  not  worth  killing;  if  he  is  an 
old  lion,  he  may  have  eaten  a  score  like  you,  white  and 
black,  but  he  is  not  hungry  just  now  and  wants  to  sleep. 
Down  goes  his  head  again,  and  his  eyes  shut  themselves 
for  another  nap.  On  you  go,  stealthily,  nearer  and 
nearer,  your  rifle  ready  in  both  hands.  But  a  dry  stalk  of 
grass  cracks  under  your  foot,  and  almost  before  you  can 
stand  still  he  is  up  and  glaring  at  you,  his  long  tufted 
tail  showing  upright  against  the  sky.  If  you  move, 
even  to  lift  your  gun  to  your  shoulder,  he  will  charge; 
and  sooner  or  later,  move  you  must.  Then,  suddenly, 
he  is  bounding  forward,  by  leap  after  leap,  hurling  his 
huge  strength  through  the  air,  straight  at  you,  and  as 
the  distance  lessens  you  see  his  burning  eyes  with  fright 
ful  distinctness.  Two  more  such  bounds  as  the  last  will 
do  it.  Take  care,  for  within  ten  seconds  either  you  or  he 
will  be  dead.  There  is  no  other  end  possible. 

Fate  does  not  always  kill,  it  is  true;  but  you  have  not 
that  one  chance  against  her  which  your  weapon  gives 


150  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

you  against  the  lion,  and  she  may  maul  you  badly  before 
she  has  done  with  you,  even  worse  than  the  biggest  cat 
would. 

It  was  not  Ugo  Severi's  fate  that  was  waking,  and 
that  began  to  look  towards  Monteverde  when  Princess 
Chiarornonte  paid  him  a  visit.  It  was  not  even  the 
Princess's  own. 

When  she  was  gone,  he  went  back  to  his  history  of 
Confucianism,  and  Pica  got  into  his  grey  linen  fatigue 
suit  again,  and  carefully  brushed  his  smart  uniform 
before  folding  it  and  putting  it  away  in  the  chest.  Then 
he  washed  the  tea-things,  rubbed  the  two  silver  spoons 
with  a  special  leather  he  kept  for  them,  and  shut  up 
everything  in  the  cupboard.  After  that,  he  opened  the 
front  door  and  sat  down  on  the  brick  seat  that  ran  along 
the  front  of  the  house.  He  would  have  liked  to  smoke 
a  pipe,  but  Captain  Ugo  was  very  particular  about  that, 
so  he  took  out  half  of  a  villainous-looking  '  napoletano  ' 
cigar,  bit  off  three-quarters  of  an  inch  of  it,  and  returned 
the  small  remainder  to  his  pocket;  and  after  a  few 
minutes  he  concluded,  as  usual,  that  a  chew  was  far 
cheaper  than  a  smoke  and  lasted  much  longer. 

As  the  sun  sank  he  looked  across  the  yellow  river 
towards  Saint  Paul's,  and  because  he  had  been  bred  in 
sight  of  the  sea  it  struck  him  that  the  distant  belfry 
tower  was  very  like  a  lighthouse,  and  he  smiled  at  the 
thought,  which  has  occurred  to  men  of  more  cultivation 
than  he  had. 

His  eyes  wandered  to  his  left,  and  the  sunset  glow  was 
on  the  low  city  walls,  not  a  mile  away,  reddening  the 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  151 

upper  story  of  an  ancient  convent  beyond.  His  sharp 
eyes  counted  the  windows  mechanically,  and  one  of 
them  belonged  to  the  cell  of  Sister  Giovanna,  the  Do 
minican  nun,  though  he  did  not  know  it ;  and  much  less 
did  he  guess  that  before  very  long  he  himself,  and  his 
master,  and  the  fine  lady  who  had  come  in  a  motor  that 
afternoon,  were  all  to  play  their  parts  in  the  nun's  life. 
If  he  had  known  that,  he  would  have  tried  to  guess 
which  window  was  hers. 

The  first  bitter  tang  of  the  vile  tobacco  was  gone  out 
of  it,  and  Pica  thoughtfully  rolled  the  quid  over  his 
tongue  to  the  other  side  of  his  mouth.  At  that  mo 
ment  he  was  aware  of  a  man  in  a  little  brown  hat  and 
shabby  clothes  who  must  have  come  round  the  house 
very  quietly,  from  the  direction  of  the  magazine,  for  he 
was  already  standing  still  near  the  corner,  looking  at 
him. 

'What  do  you  want? '  Pica  asked  rather  sharply. 

The  man  looked  like  a  bad  character,  but  raised  his 
hat  as  he  answered  with  a  North  Italian  accent. 

'I  am  a  stranger,'  he  said.  'Can  you  tell  me  how  to 
reach  the  nearest  gate  ? ' 

'There  is  the  road/  the  soldier  replied,  pointing  to  it, 
'and  there  is  Rome,  and  the  nearest  gate  is  Porta 
Portese.' 

'Thank  you/  the  man  said,  and  went  on  his  way. 


CHAPTER  IX 

the  month  of  December  the  Princess  Chiaro- 
nionte  fell  ill,  much  to  her  own  surprise  and  that  of  her 
children,  for  such  a  thing  had  never  happened  to  her 
since  she  had  been  a  mere  child  and  had  caught  the 
measles;  but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  fact  that  she 
now  had  a  bad  attack  of  the  influenza,  with  high  fever, 
and  her  head  felt  very  light.  During  the  first  two  days, 
she  altogether  refused  to  stay  in  her  room,  which  made 
matters  worse;  but  on  the  third  morning  she  yielded 
and  stayed  in  bed,  very  miserable  and  furiously  angry 
with  herself.  It  had  always  been  her  favourite  boast 
that  she  never  caught  cold,  never  had  a  headache,  and 
never  broke  down  from  fatigue;  and  considering  the 
exceedingly  gay  life  she  had  led  she  certainly  had  some 
cause  to  be  vain  of  her  health. 

Her  eldest  daughter  and  her  maid  took  care  of  her 
that  day,  and  her  maid  sat  up  with  her  during  the 
following  night,  after  which  it  became  quite  clear  that 
she  must  have  a  professional  nurse.  The  doctor  insisted 
upon  it,  though  the  Princess  herself  flew  into  a  helpless 
rage  at  the  mere  suggestion;  and  then,  all  at  once,  and 
before  the  doctor  had  left  the  room,  she  began  to  talk 
quite  quietly  about  ordering  baby  frocks  and  a  peram 
bulator,  though  her  youngest  boy  was  already  twelve 

152 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  153 

years  old  and  went  to  school  at  the  Istituto  Massimo. 
The  doctor  and  the  maid  looked  at  each  other. 

'I  will  telephone  for  one  of  the  White  Sisters/  the 
doctor  said.  'They  are  the  ones  I  am  used  to  and  I 
know  the  Mother  Superior.' 

It  happened  that  the  nurses  of  Santa  Giovanna  were 
much  in  demand  at  that  time,  for  there  was  an  epidemic 
of  influenza  in  the  city,  and  as  they  were  almost  all  both 
ladies  and  Italians,  society  people  preferred  them  to 
those  of  other  orders.  Three-quarters  of  an  hour  after 
the  doctor  had  telephoned,  one  of  them  appeared  at  the 
Palazzo  Chiaromonte,  a  rather  stout,  grave  woman  of 
forty  or  more,  who  knew  her  business. 

She  at  once  said,  however,  that  she  had  come  on 
emergency,  but  could  not  stay  later  than  the  evening, 
when  another  Sister  would  replace  her;  it  would  be  her 
turn  on  the  next  morning  to  begin  her  week  as  supervis 
ing  nun  in  the  Convent  hospital,  a  duty  taken  in  rotation 
by  three  of  the  most  experienced  nuns,  and  it  was  ab 
solutely  necessary  that  she  should  have  her  night's  rest 
before  taking  charge  of  the  wards. 

The  Princess  had  fallen  into  a  state  of  semi-con 
sciousness  which  was  neither  sleep  nor  stupor,  but  par 
took  of  both,  and  her  face  was  scarlet  from  the  fever. 
Two  or  three  times  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  how 
ever,  she  was  evidently  aware  of  the  nurse's  presence,  and 
she  submitted  without  resistance  to  all  that  was  done 
for  her.  The  maid,  who  had  been  in  the  sick-room  all 
night  and  all  the  morning,  was  now  asleep,  and  the 
doctor  had  advised  that  the  children  should  be  kept 


154  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

away  from  their  mother  altogether.  When  the  doctor 
came  again,  about  six  o'clock,  the  nun  explained  her  own 
position  to  him,  and  begged  him  to  communicate  with 
the  Convent  before  leaving  the  palace,  as  the  Princess 
should  certainly  not  be  left  without  proper  care,  even 
for  an  hour.  He  did  what  she  asked,  and  the  answer 
came  back  in  the  Mother  Superior's  own  voice.  She 
said  that  she  was  very  short  of  nurses,  and  that  it  would 
be  extremely  inconvenient  to  send  one,  and  she  there 
fore  begged  of  him  to  get  a  Sister  from  another  order. 

He  replied  very  crossly  that  he  would  do  nothing  of 
the  sort,  that  he  believed  in  the  White  Sisters  and  meant 
to  have  a  White  Sister,  and  that  a  White  Sister  must 
come,  and  a  good  one;  and  that  if  it  was  only  a  matter 
of  inconvenience,  it  was  better  that  the  Convent  should 
be  inconvenienced  for  him  than  that  he  should  be  disap 
pointed;  and  he  added  so  much  more  to  the  same 
effect,  with  so  many  emphatic  repetitions,  that  the 
Mother  Superior  promised  to  break  all  rules  and  come 
herself  within  an  hour  if  no  other  Sister  were  available. 
For  she  had  a  very  high  regard  for  him,  in  spite  of  his 
rough  tone  and  harsh  voice. 

Her  difficulty  was  a  very  simple  one.  The  only  nurse 
who  was  free  that  evening  was  Sister  Giovanna,  who  had 
returned  just  before  mid-day  from  a  case  that  had  ended 
badly,  and  she  had  been  asleep  ever  since.  But  the 
Mother  Superior  knew  how  the  Princess  had  treated  her 
niece  and  robbed  her  of  her  fortune,  and  she  could  not 
foresee  what  might  happen  if  the  young  nun  took  charge 
of  the  case.  After  giving  her  somewhat  rash  promise  to 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  155 

the  doctor,  she  sent  for  her,  therefore,  and  explained 
matters. 

'I  do  not  think  that  my  aunt  will  recognise  me/  said 
Sister  Giovanna.  'She  has  never  set  eyes  on  me  since 
I  was  a  girl  of  eighteen  in  deep  mourning.  Our  dress 
changes  us  very  much,  and  I  must  have  changed,  too, 
in  five  years.  Even  my  voice  is  not  the  same,  I  fancy.7 

The  Mother  Superior  looked  at  her  keenly.  She  was 
very  fond  of  her,  but  it  had  never  occurred  to  her  to  con 
sider  whether  the  young  Sister's  appearance  had  altered 
or  not.  Yet  her  own  memory  for  faces  was  good,  and 
when  she  recalled  the  features  of  the  slim,  fair-haired 
girl  in  black  whom  she  had  first  seen,  and  compared  the 
recollection  with  the  grave  and  almost  saintly  face  before 
her,  closely  confined  by  the  white  wimple  and  gorget, 
and  the  white  veil  that  bound  the  forehead  low  above 
the  serious  brow,  she  really  did  not  believe  that  any  one 
could  easily  recognise  the  Angela  of  other  days. 

'I  suppose  I  never  realise  how  changed  we  all  are/ 
she  said  thoughtfully.  '  But  do  you  not  think  the  Prin 
cess  Chiaromonte  may  remember  you  when  she  hears 
your  name?' 

'Many  Sisters  have  taken  it/  Sister  Giovanna  an 
swered.  'And,  after  all,  what  harm  can  there  be?  If 
she  recognises  me  and  is  angry,  she  can  only  send  me 
away,  and  meanwhile  she  will  be  taken  care  of,  at  least 
for  the  night.  That  is  the  main  thing,  Mother,  and  one 
of  the  Sisters  will  surely  be  free  to-morrow  morning.7 

So  the  matter  was  settled.  Sister  Giovanna  got  her 
well-worn  little  black  bag,  her  breviary,  and  her  long 


156  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

black  cloak,  and  in  half^an-hour  she  was  ascending  the 
grand  staircase  of  the  palace  in  which  she  had  lived  as  a 
child. 

She  felt  more  emotion  than  she  had  expected,  but  no 
sign  betrayed  that  she  was  moved,  nor  showed  the 
servant  who  led  her  through  the  apartments  and  pas 
sages  that  she  was  familiar  with  every  turn.  Though 
she  went  through  the  great  hall  and  her  feet  trod  upon 
the  very  spot  where  the  dead  Knight  of  Malta  had  lain 
in  state,  not  a  sigh  escaped  her,  nor  one  quickly-drawn 
breath. 

She  was  ushered  to  the  very  room  that  had  been  her 
father's,  and  stood  waiting  after  the  servant  had  tapped 
softly  at  the  door.  The  other  nun  came  out  noiselessly  and 
pulled  the  door  after  her  without  quite  closing  it.  She 
explained  the  case  to  Sister  Giovanna,  and  said  that  the 
Princess  seemed  to  be  asleep  again.  She  probably  knew 
nothing  of  any  relationship  between  the  patient  and 
Sister  Giovanna ;  but  if  she  remembered  anything  of  the 
latter's  story,  it  was  not  her  business  to  comment  on  the 
circumstance,  even  mentally.  Even  in  the  nursing 
orders,  where  the  real  names  of  the  Sisters  may  often  be 
known  to  others  besides  the  Mother  Superior,  the  Sisters 
themselves  scrupulously  respect  one  another's  secret, 
though  it  may  be  almost  an  open  one,  and  never  discuss 
the  identity  of  a  member  of  their  community.  Where 
nuns  are  cloistered,  actual  secrecy  is  preserved  as  far  as 
possible,  and  though  a  Sister  may  sometimes  talk  to 
another  about  her  former  life,  and  especially  of  her 
childhood,  she  never  mentions  her  family  by  name,  even 
though  she  may  bo  :uv:nv  that  the  truth  is  known. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  157 

Sister  Giovanna  entered  the  sick-room  alone,  as  the 
other  nurse  seemed  to  think  that  the  unexpected  sight 
of  two  nuns  might  disturb  the  patient.  If  the  Princess 
noticed  the  new  face,  when  she  next  opened  her  eyes, 
she  made  no  remark  and  showed  no  surprise;  so  that 
Sister  Giovanna  felt  quite  sure  of  not  having  been  recog 
nised.  There  was  very  little  light  in  the  room,  too,  by 
the  doctor's  advice,  and  a  high  screen  covered  with  old 
Cordova  leather  stood  between  the  bed  and  the  table  on 
which  the  single  shaded  candle  was  placed. 

The  nun  stood  beside  the  pillow  and  looked  long  at 
the  face  of  the  woman  who  had  wronged  her  so  cruelly 
and  shamefully.  After  a  few  seconds  she  could  see  her 
very  distinctly  in  the  shadow ;  the  features  were  flushed 
and  full,  and  strangely  younger  than  when  she  had  last 
seen  them,  as  often  happens  with  fair  people  of  a  certain 
age  at  the  beginning  of  a  sharp  fever,  when  the  quickened 
pulse  sends  the  hot  blood  to  the  cheeks  and  brings  back 
the  vivid  brilliancy  of  youth.  But  the  experienced 
nurse  knew  that  and  was  not  surprised.  After  taking 
the  temperature  and  doing  all  she  could  for  the  moment, 
she  left  the  bedside  and  sat  down  to  read  her  breviary  by 
the  light  on  the  other  side  of  the  screen.  The  illness  was 
only  an  attack  of  influenza  after  all,  and  she  knew  how 
strong  her  aunt  had  always  been ;  there  was  no  cause  for 
anxiety,  nor  any  necessity  for  sitting  constantly  within 
sight  of  the  patient.  Twice  an  hour  she  rose,  went  to 
the  sick  woman's  side  and  gave  her  medicine,  or  drink, 
or  merely  smoothed  the  pillow  a  little,  as  the  case  might 
be,  and  then  came  back  to  the  table.  The  Princess  was 


158  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

not  so  restless  as  most  people  are  in  fever,  and  she  did 
not  try  to  talk,  but  took  whatever  was  given  her,  like  a 
model  of  resignation.  The  delirium  had  left  her  for  the 
present. 

Reading  slowly,  and  often  meditating  on  what  she 
read,  Sister  Giovanna  did  not  finish  the  office  for  the  day 
and  close  her  book  till  nearly  midnight.  Her  old  watch 
lay  on  the  table  beside  the  candlestick,  and  her  eyes 
were  on  the  hands  as  she  waited  till  it  should  be  exactly 
twelve  before  taking  the  patient's  temperature  again. 
But  it  still  wanted  three  minutes  of  the  hour  when  the 
Princess's  voice  broke  the  profound  silence.  The  words 
were  spoken  quietly,  in  a  far-away  tone : 

'I  stole  it.' 

Sister  Giovanna  started  more  nervously  than  a  nurse 
should,  and  looked  straight  at  the  screen  as  if  she  could 
see  her  aunt's  face  through  the  leather.  In  a  few  seconds 
she  heard  the  voice  again,  and  though  the  tone  was 
lower,  the  words  were  as  distinct  as  if  spoken  close  to  her 
ear. 

'I  hid  it  on  me,  and  left  my  little  bag  behind  on  pur 
pose,  because  the  footman  would  be  sure  to  open  that, 
to  take  my  cigarettes.  I  knew  he  often  did.  It  was  very 
clever  of  me,  was  it  not?  He  will  swear  that  he  went 
back  for  the  bag  and  that  there  were  no  papers  in  it.' 

It  was  not  the  first  time,  by  many,  that  Sister  Gio 
vanna  had  heard  a  delirious  patient  tell  a  shameful  secret 
that  had  been  kept  long  and  well.  She  rose  with  an 
effort,  pressing  one  hand  upon  the  table.  It  was  plainly 
her  duty  to  prevent  any  further  revelations  if  she  could, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  159 

and  to  forget  what  she  had  heard ;  for  a  trained  nurse's 
standard  of  honour  must  be  as  high  as  a  doctor's,  since 
she  is  trusted  as  he  is. 

Yet  the  nun  waited  a  moment  before  going  round  the 
screen,  unconsciously  arguing  that  if  the  patient  did  not 
speak  again  it  would  be  better  not  to  disturb  her  at  that 
moment.  To  tell  the  truth,  too,  Sister  Giovanna  had 
not  fully  understood  the  meaning  of  what  her  aunt  had 
said.  She  stood  motionless  during  the  long  pause  that 
followed  the  last  words. 

Then,  without  warning,  the  delirious  woman  began 
to  laugh,  vacantly  and  foolishly  at  first,  and  with  short 
interruptions  of  silence,  but  then  more  loudly,  and  by 
degrees  more  continuously,  till  the  spasms  grew  wild  and 
hysterical,  and  bad  to  hear.  Sister  Giovanna  went 
quickly  to  her  and  at  once  tried  to  put  a  stop  to  the  at 
tack.  The  Princess  was  rolling  her  head  from  side  to 
side  on  the  pillows,  with  her  arms  stretched  out  on  each 
side  of  her  and  her  white  hands  clawing  at  the  broad  hem 
of  the  sheet  with  all  their  strength,  as  if  they  must  tear 
the  fine  linen  to  strips,  and  she  was  shrieking  with  un 
controllable  laughter. 

Sister  Giovanna  bent  down  and  grasped  one  arm 
firmly  with  both  hands. 

' Control  yourself!'  she  said  in  a  tone  of  command. 
'Stop  laughing  at  once !' 

The  Princess  shrieked  again  and  again. 

'Silence!'  cried  the  nurse  in  a  stern  voice,  and  she 
shook  the  arm  she  held  with  a  good  deal  of  roughness, 
for  she  knew  that  there  was  no  other  way. 


160  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  delirious  woman  screamed  once  more,  and  then 
gulped  several  times  as  if  she  were  going  to  sob ;  at  last 
she  lay  quite  still  for  a  moment,  gazing  up  into  her 
nurse's  eyes.  Then  a  change  came  into  her  face,  and 
she  spoke  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  and  as  if  frightened. 

'Are  you  going  to  refuse  me  absolution  for  taking  the 
will?'  she  asked. 

The  question  was  so  unexpected  that  Sister  Giovanna 
did  not  find  anything  to  say  at  once,  and  before  any 
words  occurred  to  her  the  Princess  was  speaking  hur 
riedly  and  earnestly,  but  still  in  a  loud  whisper,  which 
occasionally  broke  into  a  very  low  and  trembling  tone 
of  voice. 

'I  did  it  for  the  best.  What  could  that  wretched  girl 
have  done  with  the  money,  even  if  the  lawyers  had 
proved  the  will  good  ?  Why  did  not  my  brother-in-law 
get  civilly  married,  instead  of  leaving  his  daughter  with 
out  so  much  as  a  name  ?  There  must  have  been  a  reason. 
Perhaps  she  was  not  really  his  wife's  child !  It  was  all 
his  fault,  and  the  will  was  not  legal  and  would  only  have 
given  trouble  if  I  had  let  them  find  it  I  So  I  took  it 
away,  and  burned  it  in  my  own  room.  What  harm  was 
there  in  that  ?  It  saved  so  many  useless  complications, 
and  we  had  a  right  to  the  fortune !  The  lawyers  said  so ! 
I  cannot  see  that  it  was  really  a  sin  at  all,  Father,  indeed 
I  cannot !  I  have  confessed  it  from  a  scruple  of  con 
science,  and  you  will  not  refuse  me  absolution !  How 
can  you,  when  I  say  I  am  sorry  for  it  ?  Yes,  yes,  I  am  ! ' 
The  voice  rose  to  a  low  cry.  *  Since  you  say  it  was  a  sin  I 
n  i  >ont,  I  will  —  what  ?  You  are  not  in  earnest,  Father  ? 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  161 

Make  restitution?  Give  the  whole  fortune  to  a  nun? 
Oh,  no,  no !  You  cannot  expect  me  to  do  that !  Rob 
my  children  of  what  would  have  been  theirs  even  if  I  had 
not  taken  the  will  ?  It  is  out  of  the  question,  I  tell  you  ! 
Utterly  out  of  the  question !  Besides,  it  is  not  mine 
at  all  —  I  have  not  got  a  penny  of  it !  It  is  all  my  hus 
band's  and  I  cannot  touch  it  —  do  you  understand?' 

Sister  Giovanna  had  listened  in  spite  of  herself. 

'The  nun  expects  nothing  and  does  not  want  the 
money/  she  said,  bending  down.  'Try  to  rest  now,  for 
you  are  very  tired/ 

'Rest?'  cried  the  Princess,  starting  up  in  bed  and 
leaning  on  one  hand.  'How  can  I  rest  when  it  torments 
me  day  and  night?  I  come  to  you  for  absolution  and 
you  refuse  it,  and  tell  me  to  rest !' 

She  broke  into  a  wild  laugh  again,  but  Sister  Giovanna 
instantly  seized  her  arm  as  she  had  done  before,  and 
spoke  in  the  same  commanding  way. 

'Be  silent!'    she  said  energetically. 

The  delirious  woman  began  to  whine. 

'  You  are  so  rough,  Father  —  so  unkind  to-day !  What 
is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  never  treated  me  like  this 
before!' 

She  was  sobbing  the  next  moment,  and  real  tears 
trickled  through  her  fingers  as  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

'  You  see  —  how  —  how  penitent  I  am  ! '  she  man 
aged  to  cry  in  a  broken  voice.  'Have  pity,  Father !' 

She  was  crying  bitterly,  but  though  she  was  out  of  her 
mind  the  nun  could  not  help  feeling  that  she  was  acting 


162  THE  WHITE  SIriTER 

a  part,  even  in  her  delirium,  and  in  spite  of  the  tears  that 
forced  themselves  through  her  hands  and  ran  down,  wet 
ting  the  lace  and  spotting  the  scarlet  ribbons  of  her 
elaborate  nightdress.  Sister  Giovanna  put  aside  the 
thought  as  a  possibly  unjust  judgment,  and  tried  to 
quiet  her. 

'  If  you  are  really  sorry  for  what  you  did,  you  will  be 
forgiven/  said  the  nun. 

This  produced  an  immediate  effect:  the  sobbing  sub 
sided,  the  tears  ceased  to  flow,  and  the  Princess  repeated 
the  Act  of  Contrition  in  a  low  voice;  then  she  folded 
her  hands  and  waited  in  silence.  Sister  Giovanna  stood 
upright  beside  the  pillows,  and  prayed  very  earnestly  in 
her  heart  that  she  might  forget  what  she  had  heard,  or 
at  least  bear  her  aunt  no  grudge  for  the  irreparable  wrong. 

But  the  delirious  woman,  who  still  fancied  that  her 
nurse  was  her  confessor,  was  waiting  for  the  words  of 
absolution,  and  after  a  few  moments,  as  she  did  not  hear 
them,  she  broke  out  again  in  senseless  terror,  with  sob- 
ing  and  more  tears.  She  grasped  the  Sister's  arms 
wildly  and  dragged  herself  up  till  she  was  on  her  knees 
in  bed,  imploring  and  weeping,  pleading  and  sobbing, 
while  she  trembled  visibly  from  head  to  foot. 

The  case  was  a  difficult  one,  even  for  an  experienced 
nurse.  A  lay  woman  might  have  taken  upon  herself 
to  personate  the  priest  and  pronounce  the  words  of  the 
absolution  in  the  hope  of  quieting  the  patient,  but  no 
member  of  a  religious  order  would  do  such  a  thing,  except 
to  save  life,  and  such  a  case  could  hardly  arise.  The 
Princess  Chiaromonte  was  in  no  bodily  danger,  and  the 


THE  WHITE   SISTER  163 

chances  were  that  the  delirium  would  leave  her  before 
long;  when  it  disappeared  she  would  probably  fall 
asleep,  and  it  was  very  unlikely  that  she  should  remember 
anything  she  had  said  in  her  ravings.  Meanwhile  it  was 
certainly  not  good  for  her  to  go  on  crying  and  throwing 
herself  about,  as  she  was  doing,  for  the  fever  was  high 
already  and  her  wild  excitement  might  increase  the  tem 
perature  still  further. 

Sister  Giovanna  took  advantage  of  a  brief  interval, 
when  she  was  perhaps  only  taking  breath  between  her 
lamentations,  out  of  sheer  necessity. 

'You  must  compose  yourself/  the  nun  said  with  au 
thority.  'You  seem  to  forget  that  you  have  been  ill. 
Lie  down  for  a  little  while,  and  I  will  come  back  pres 
ently.  In  the  meantime,  I  give  you  my  word  that 
your  niece  has  forgiven  you  with  all  her  heart/ 

She  could  say  that  with  a  clear  conscience,  just  then, 
and  gently  disengaging  herself,  she  succeeded  without 
much  difficulty  in  making  the  Princess  lay  her  head  on 
the  pillow,  for  the  words  had  produced  a  certain  effect ; 
then,  leaving  the  bedside,  she  went  back  to  the  table. 
But  she  did  not  sit  down,  and  only  remained  standing 
about  a  minute  before  going  back  to  the  patient.  ' 

She  went  round  by  the  opposite  side  of  the  screen, 
however,  with  the  hope  that  the  Princess,  seeing  her 
come  from  another  direction,  would  take  her  for  a  differ 
ent  person.  Very  small  things  sometimes  affect  people 
in  delirium,  and  the  little  artifice  was  successful;  she 
came  forward,  speaking  cheerfully  in  her  ordinary  voice, 
and  at  once  put  her  arm  under  the  pillow,  propping  her 


164  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

aunt's  head  in  order  to  make  her  drink  comfortably. 
There  was  no  resistance  now. 

'  You  are  much  better  already/  she  said  in  an  encour 
aging  tone.  '  Does  your  head  ache  much  ? ' 

'It  feels  a  little  light/  the  Princess  said,  quite  natu 
rally,  'but  it  does  not  hurt  me  now.  I  think  I  have 
been  asleep  —  and  dreaming,  too.' 

Perhaps  some  suspicion  that  she  had  been  raving 
crossed  her  unsettled  brain,  for  she  glanced  quickly  at 
the  nun  and  then  shut  her  eyes. 

'Yes/  she  said,  apparently  satisfied;  'I  have  been 
dreaming.' 

Sister  Giovanna  only  smiled,  as  sympathetically  as 
she  could,  and  sitting  down  by  the  head  of  the  bed,  she 
stroked  the  burning  forehead  with  her  cool  hand,  softly 
and  steadily,  for  several  minutes ;  and  little  by  little  the 
Princess  sank  into  a  quiet  sleep,  for  she  was  exhausted 
by  the  effort  she  had  unconsciously  made.  When  she 
was  breathing  regularly,  the  nun  left  her  side  and  went 
noiselessly  back  to  her  seat  behind  the  screen. 

She  did  not  open  her  breviary  again  that  night.  For 
a  long  time  she  sat  quite  still,  with  her  hands  folded  on 
the  edge  of  the  table,  gazing  into  the  furthest  corner  of 
the  room  with  unwinking  eyes. 

She  had  said  that  she  forgave  her  aunt  with  all  her 
heart,  and  she  had  believed  that  it  was  true;  but  she 
was  less  sure  now  that  she  could  think  of  her  past  life, 
and  of  what  might  have  been  if  she  had  not  been  drivc-n 
from  her  home  destitute  and  forced  to  take  refuge  with 
Madame  Bernard. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  165 

In  the  light  of  what  she  had  just  learned,  the  past  had 
a  very  different  look.  It  was  true  that  she  had  urged 
Giovanni  to  join  the  expedition,  and  had  used  arguments 
which  had  convinced  herself  as  well  as  him.  But  she 
had  made  him  go  because,  if  he  had  stayed,  he  would 
have  sacrificed  his  career  in  the  army  in  order  to  earn 
bread  for  her,  who  was  penniless.  If  she  had  inherited 
even  a  part  of  the  fortune  that  should  have  been  hers, 
it  never  would  have  occurred  to  him  to  leave  the  service 
and  go  into  business  for  her  support;  or  if  it  had  crossed 
his  mind,  she  would  have  dissuaded  him  easily  enough. 
So  far  as  mere  money  went,  he  had  not  wanted  or  needed 
it  for  himself,  but  for  her ;  and  if  she  had  been  rich  and 
had  married  him,  he  could  not  have  been  reproached 
with  living  on  her.  To  persuade  him,  she  had  urged 
that  his  honour  required  him  to  accept  a  post  of  danger 
instead  of  resigning  from  the  army  as  soon  as  it  was 
offered  to  him,  and  this  had  been  true  to  some  extent; 
but  if  there  had  been  no  question  of  his  leaving  the 
service,  she  would  have  found  him  plenty  of  satisfactory 
reasons  for  not  going  to  Africa,  and  he  had  not  been  the 
kind  of  man  whom  gossips  care  to  call  a  coward.  Rea 
sons?  She  would  have  invented  twenty  in  those  days, 
when  she  was  not  a  nun,  but  just  a  loving  girl  with  all  her 
womanhood  before  her ! 

If  her  aunt  had  not  stolen  the  will  and  robbed  her,  she 
would  have  hindered  Giovanni  from  leaving  Italy,  and 
she  would  have  married  him,  that  was  the  plain  truth. 
He  would  have  been  alive  now,  in  his  youth  and  his 
strength  and  his  love  for  her,  instead  of  having  perished 


1C6  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

in  the  African  desert.  That  was  the  thought  that  tor 
mented  the  guilty  woman,  too:  it  was  the  certainty 
that  her  crime  had  indirectly  sent  him  to  his  death. 
So  thought  Sister  Giovanna  as  she  sat  staring  into  the 
dark  corner  through  the  hours  of  the  night,  and  she 
wondered  how  she  had  been  able  to  say  that  she  forgave, 
or  had  dared  to  hope  that  she  could  forget.  If  it  had 
been  only  for  herself,  it  might  have  been  quite  different ; 
but  her  imagination  had  too  often  unwillingly  pictured 
the  tragic  death  of  the  man  she  had  loved  so  well  to 
forgive  the  woman  who  had  caused  it,  now  that  she  had 
revealed  herself  at  last. 

So  long  as  Angela  had  believed  that  her  father  had 
left  no  will,  because  he  had  been  in  ignorance  of  the  law, 
she  had  been  able  to  tell  herself  that  her  great  misfor 
tune  had  been  inevitable;  but  since  it  turned  out  that 
he  had  provided  for  her  and  had  done  his  duty  by  her, 
according  to  his  light,  the  element  of  inevitable  fate  dis 
appeared,  and  the  awful  conviction  that  Giovanni's  life 
had  been  wantonly  sacrificed  to  enrich  Princess  Chiaro- 
monte  and  her  children  forced  itself  upon  her  intelli 
gence  and  would  not  be  thrust  out. 

It  seemed  to  Sister  Giovanna  that  this  was  the  first 
real  temptation  that  had  assailed  her  since  she  had  taken 
her  vows,  the  first  moment  of  active  regret  for  what 
might  have  been,  as  distinguished  from  that  heart-felt 
sorrow  for  the  man  who  had  perished  which  had  not  been 
incompatible  with  a  religious  life.  Recalling  the  Mother 
Superior's  words  of  warning,  she  recorded  her  failure, 
as  the  first  of  its  kind,  and  prayed  that  it  might  not  be 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  167 

irretrievable,  and  that  resentment  and  regret  might  ebb 
away  and  leave  her  again  as  she  had  been  before  the 
unforgetable  voice  had  pierced  her  ears  with  the  truth 
she  had  never  guessed. 

It  was  a  great  effort  now  to  go  to  the  bedside  and  do 
what  must  be  done  for  the  sick  woman  —  to  smooth 
the  pillow  for  the  head  that  had  thought  such  thoughts 
and  to  stroke  the  hand  that  had  done  such  a  deed.  She 
was  tempted  to  take  the  little  black  bag  and  leave  the 
house  quietly,  before  any  one  was  up.  That  was  not  a 
very  dreadful  thought,  of  course,  but  it  seemed  terrible 
to  her,  whose  first  duty  in  life  was  to  help  sufferers  and 
soothe  those  who  were  in  pain.  It  seemed  to  her 
almost  as  bad  as  if  a  soldier  in  battle  were  suddenly 
tempted  to  turn  his  back  on  his  comrades,  throw  down 
his  rifle,  and  run  away. 

She  felt  it  each  time  that  she  had  to  rise  and  go  round 
the  screen,  and  when  she  saw  the  flushed  face  on  the 
pillow  in  the  shadow,  the  longing  to  be  gone  was  almost 
greater  than  she  could  resist.  She  had  not  understood 
before  what  it  meant  to  loathe  any  living  thing,  but  she 
knew  it  now,  and  if  she  did  her  duty  conscientiously 
that  night,  easy  and  simple  though  it  was,  she  deserved 
more  credit  than  many  of  the  Sisters  who  had  gone  so 
bravely  to  nurse  the  lepers  in  far  Rangoon. 

She  did  not  feel  the  smallest  wish  to  hurt  the  woman 
who  had  injured  her,  let  that  be  said  in  her  praise;  for 
though  vengeance  be  the  Lord's,  to  long  for  it  is  human. 
She  only  desired  to  be  out  of  the  house,  and  out  of  sight 
of  the  face  that  lay  where  her  father's  had  lain,  and 


168  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

beyond  reach  of  the  voice  that  had  told  her  what  she 
wished  she  had  never  known. 

But  there  was  no  escape  and  she  had  to  bear  it ;  and 
when  the  night  wore  away  at  last,  it  had  been  the  longest 
she  remembered  in  all  her  life.  Her  face  was  as  white  as 
the  Mother  Superior's  and  her  dark  blue  eyes  looked 
almost  black;  even  Madame  Bernard  would  not  have 
recognised  the  bright-haired  Angela  of  other  days  in  the 
weary  and  sad-faced  nun  who  met  the  doctor  outside  the 
door  of  the  sick-room  when  he  came  at  eight  o'clock. 

She  told  him  that  the  patient  had  been  delirious  about 
midnight,  but  had  rested  tolerably  ever  since.  He 
glanced  at  the  temperature  chart  she  brought  him  and 
then  looked  keenly  at  her  face  and  frowned. 

'  What  is  the  matter  with  all  of  you  White  Sisters  ? ' 
he  growled  discontentedly.  '  First  they  send  me  one  who 
cannot  stay  over  night,  and  then  they  send  me  one  who 
has  not  been  to  bed  for  a  week  and  ought  to  stay  there 
for  a  month  !  When  did  you  leave  your  last  case  ? ' 

'  Yesterday  morning,'  answered  Sister  Giovanna  sub 
missively.  'I  slept  most  of  the  afternoon.  I  am  not 
tired  and  can  do  my  work  very  well,  I  assure  you.' 

'Oh,  you  can,  can  you?'  The  excellent  man  glared 
at  her  savagely  through  his  spectacles.  'You  cannot 
say  anything  yourself,  of  course,  but  I  shall  go  to  your 
hospital  to-day  and  give  your  Mother  Superior  such  a 
scolding  as  she  never  had  in  her  life !  She  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  send  out  a  nurse  in  your  worn-out  condi 
tion!' 

'  I  felt  quite  fresh  and  rested  when  I  left  the  Convent 


THE  WHITE   SISTER  169 

in  the  evening/  said  the  Sister  in  answer.  'It  is  not  the 
Mother  Superior's  fault.' 

'  It  is ! '  retorted  the  doctor,  who  could  not  bear  con 
tradiction.  'She  ought  to  know  better,  and  I  shall  tell 
her  so.  Go  home  at  once,  Sister,  and  go  to  bed  and  stay 
there ! ' 

'I  am  quite  able  to  work/  protested  Sister  Giovanna 
quietly.  'There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  me.' 

Still  the  doctor  glared  at  her. 

'Show  me  your  tongue  ! '  he  said  roughly. 

The  nun  meekly  opened  her  mouth  and  put  out  her 
little  tongue :  it  was  as  pink  as  a  rose-leaf.  The  doctor 
grunted,  grabbed  her  wrist  and  began  to  count  the  pulse. 
Presently  he  made  another  inarticulate  noise,  as  if  he 
were  both  annoyed  and  pleased  at  having  been  mistaken. 

'Something  on  your  mind? '  he  asked,  more  kindly  — 
'  some  mental  distress  ? ' 

'Yes.'    The  word  was  spoken  reluctantly. 

'I  am  sorry  I  was  impatient/  he  said,  and  his  large 
brown  eyes  softened  behind  his  round  spectacles  as  he 
turned  to  enter  the  sick-room. 

It  was  not  his  business  to  ask  what  had  so  greatly 
disturbed  the  peace  of  Sister  Giovanna. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHEN  the  Princess  Chiaromonte  was  getting  well,  she 
asked  some  questions  of  her  doctor,  to  which  he  re 
plied  as  truthfully  as  he  could.  She  inquired,  for  in 
stance,  whether  she  had  been  delirious  at  the  beginning, 
and  whether  she  had  talked  much  when  her  mind  was 
wandering,  and  his  answers  disturbed  her  a  little.  As 
sometimes  happens  in  such  cases,  she  had  disjointed 
recollections  of  what  she  had  said,  and  vague  visions  of 
herself  that  were  not  mere  creations  of  her  imagination. 
It  was  like  a  dream  that  had  not  been  quite  a  dream; 
opium-eaters  know  what  the  sensation  is  better  than 
other  men.  Under  the  influence  of  laudanum,  or  the 
pipe,  or  the  hypodermic,  they  have  talked  brilliantly, 
but  they  cannot  remember  what  the  conversation  was 
about ;  or  else  they  know  that  they  have  been  furiously 
angry,  but  cannot  recall  the  cause  of  their  wrath  nor  the 
person  on  whom  it  was  vented;  or  they  have  betrayed 
a  secret,  but  for  their  lives  they  could  not  say  who  it 
was  to  whom  they  told  it.  The  middle-aged  woman  of 
the  world  felt  that  her  reputation  was  a  coat  of  many 
colours,  and  her  past,  when  she  looked  back  to  it,  was 
like  a  badly-constructed  play  in  which  the  stage  is 
crowded  with  personages  who  have  little  connection  with 
each  other.  There  was  much  which  she  herself  did  not 
care  to  remember,  but  much  more  that  no  one  else  need 

170 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  171 

ever  know;  and  as  she  had  never  before  been  delirious, 
nor  even  ill,  the  thought  that  she  had  now  perhaps 
revealed  incidents  of  her  past  life  was  anything  but 
pleasant. 

'It  is  so  very  disagreeable  to  think  that  I  may  have 
talked  nonsense/  she  said  to  the  doctor,  examining  one 
of  her  white  hands  thoughtfully. 

'Do  not  disturb  yourself  about  that/  he  answered  in 
a  reassuring  tone,  for  he  understood  much  better  than 
she  guessed.  (A  good  trained  nurse  is  as  silent  about 
such  accidental  confessions  as  a  good  priest  is  about 
intentional  ones.' 

'Confession!'  cried  the  Princess,  annoyed.  'As  if  I 
were  concealing  a  crime !  I  only  mean  that  I  probably 
said  very  silly  things.  By  the  bye,  I  had  several  nurses, 
had  I  not  ?  You  kept  changing  them.  Do  you  happen 
to  know  who  that  Sister  Giovanna  was,  who  looked  so 
ill  ?  You  sent  her  back  after  two  days,  I  think,  because 
you  thought  she  might  break  down.  She  reminded  me 
of  a  niece  of  mine  whom  I  have  not  seen  for  years,  but 
I  did  not  like  to  ask  her  any  questions,  and  besides,  I 
was  much  too  ill.' 

'I  have  no  idea  who  she  was  before  she  entered  the 
order/  the  doctor  answered. 

He  was  often  asked  such  futile  questions  about  nurses, 
and  would  not  have  answered  them  if  he  had  been  able 
to  do  so.  But  in  asking  information  the  Princess  was 
unwittingly  conveying  it,  for  it  flashed  upon  him  that 
Sister  Giovanna  was  perhaps  indeed  that  niece  of  whom 
she  spoke,  and  whom  she  was  commonly  said  to  have 


172  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

defrauded  of  her  fortune;  the  nun  herself  had  told  him 
of  the  sick  woman's  delirious  condition,  and  he  re 
membered  her  looks  and  her  admission  that  she  was  in 
mental  distress.  All  this  tallied  very  well  with  the  guess 
that  her  aunt  had  made  some  sort  of  confession  of  her 
deed  while  her  mind  was  wandering,  and  that  she  now 
dimly  recalled  something  of  the  sort.  He  put  the  theory 
away  for  future  consideration,  and  left  the  Princess  in 
ignorance  that  he  had  thought  of  it  or  had  even  attached 
any  special  meaning  to  her  words. 

She  was  far  from  satisfied,  however,  and  made  up  her 
mind  to  follow  up  the  truth  at  all  costs.  As  a  first  step, 
she  sent  a  generous  donation  to  the  Convent  of  the  White 
Sisters,  as  soon  as  she  was  quite  recovered;  and  as  her 
illness  had  not  been  serious  enough  to  explain  such  an 
important  thank-offering,  she  wrote  a  line  to  say  that 
she  had  never  been  ill  before,  and  had  been  so  much  im 
pressed  by  the  care  she  had  received  that  she  felt  she 
must  really  do  something  to  help  such  an  excellent  in 
stitution.  It  would  give  her  keen  pleasure  to  visit  the 
hospital,  she  said  in  conclusion,  but  that  was  no  doubt 
too  great  a  favour  to  ask. 

In  thanking  her,  the  Mother  Superior  replied  that  it 
would  be  no  favour  at  all,  and  that  the  Princess  would 
be  welcome  whenever  she  chose  to  send  word  that  she 
was  coming.  On  the  day  following  that,  the  Mother 
told  Sister  Giovanna  what  had  happened,  and  with 
characteristic  directness  asked  what  she  thought  about 
her  aunt's  charity. 

'It  is  very  kind  of  her/  answered  the  young  nun  in 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  173 

that  monotonous,  businesslike  tone  which  all  religious 
use  when  speaking  of  an  apparently  charitable  action 
for  the  motive  of  which  they  are  not  ready  to  vouch, 
though  they  have  no  reasonable  ground  for  criticism. 

People  of  the  world  often  speak  in  that  voice  when 
unexpectedly  asked  to  give  an  opinion  about  some 
person  whom  they  dislike  but  do  not  dare  to  abuse. 

The  little  white  volcano  flared  up  energetically,  how 
ever. 

'I  hate  that  sort  of  answer ! ;  she  cried,  with  a  delicate 
snort. 

Sister  Giovanna  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  but  said 
nothing. 

'I  cannot  refuse  the  money/  said  the  Mother  Superior, 
'  but  I  heartily  wish  I  could !  She  has  given  it  in  order 
to  come  here  and  to  be  well  received  if  she  chooses  to  come 
again.  I  am  sure  of  that,  and  she  can  have  no  object  in 
coming  here  except  to  make  mischief  for  you.  It  may 
be  wicked  of  me,  but  I  do  not  trust  that  lady  in  the 
least!  Doyou?; 

She  asked  the  question  suddenly. 

'She  cannot  harm  me  more  than  she  did  years  ago/ 
Sister  Giovanna  answered. 

'I  wish  that  were  certain!7  said  the  other.  'I  wish 
I  had  gone  to  nurse  her  myself  that  night  instead  of 
sending  you ! ' 

She  was  so  evidently  in  earnest  that  the  Sister  was 
even  more  surprised  than  before,  and  wondered  what 
was  the  matter.  But  as  it  was  not  her  place  to  ask 
questions,  and  as  the  Mother  Superior's  doubt,  or  pre- 


174  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

sentiment  of  trouble,  was  evidently  suggested  by  sin 
cere  affection  for  herself,  she  said  nothing,  and  went 
about  her  work  without  letting  her  mind  dwell  too  long 
on  the  conversation.  Men  and  women  who  lead  the 
religious  life  in  earnest  acquire  a  much  greater  control 
of  their  secret  thoughts  than  ordinary  people  can  easily 
believe  it  possible  to  exercise. 

Nevertheless,  the  Princess's  voice  came  back  to  her 
ears  when  she  was  alone  and  told  the  story  over  and  over 
again;  and  somehow  her  aunt  was  often  mentioned  in 
the  Convent  as  a  recent  benefactress  who  was  showing  a 
lively  interest  in  the  hospital,  and  would  perhaps  give 
further  large  sums  to  it  which  could  be  expended  for 
good.  Sister  Giovanna  never  said  anything  when  the 
subject  came  up,  but  she  could  not  help  thinking  of 
Judas's  suggestion  that  the  alabaster  box  of  precious 
ointment  might  have  been  sold  and  given  to  the  poor, 
and  a  disturbing  spirit  whispered  that  Princess  Chiaro- 
monte,  whose  past  might  well  be  compared  with  the 
Magdalen's,  had  done  what  Iscariot  would  have  advised. 

In  due  time,  too,  the  great  lady  visited  the  Convent 
and  hospital,  and  was  shown  over  it  systematically  by 
the  Mother  Superior  herself,  followed  by  an  approving 
little  escort  of  nurses  and  novices,  for  it  was  of  course 
permissible  to  appreciate  and  admire  the  smart  clothes 
of  a  benefactress,  whereas  it  would  have  been  the  height 
of  levity  to  bestow  so  much  attention  on  a  lady  visitor 
who  was  merely  fashionable  and  had  done  nothing  for 
the  institution.  This,  at  least,  was  the  novices'  point  of 
view.  But  the  little  white  volcano  seemed  quietly 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  175 

cross,  and  held  her  small  head  very  high  as  she  led  the 
Princess  from  one  ward  to  another  to  the  beautifully 
fitted  operating-room ;  and  when  she  spoke  her  tone  was 
strangely  cold  and  mordant,  as  a  woman's  voice  some 
times  sounds  in  the  Alps,  when  she  speaks  across  an 
ice-fall  or  a  frozen  lake. 

The  Princess  looked  behind  her  repeatedly,  and  her 
eyes  sought  her  niece's  face  amongst  those  she  saw,  but 
she  asked  no  questions  about  her,  and  apparently  gave 
all  her  attention  to  what  was  shown  her.  Sister  Gio- 
vanna  was  in  her  cell  during  all  that  time,  and  should  no 
doubt  have  been  occupied ;  but  instead,  she  was  standing 
idly  at  her  window,  looking  through  one  of  the  diamond- 
shaped  openings  in  the  lattice,  in  the  direction  of  Monte- 
verde.  She  was  hardly  aware  of  what  she  saw,  how 
ever,  for  in  imagination  she  was  following  her  aunt 
through  the  halls  and  wards  and  long  corridors,  and  a 
struggle  was  going  on  in  her  heart  which  hurt  her  and 
made  her  despise  herself. 

The  woman  who  had  ruined  her  life  was  under  the 
same  roof  with  her  again,  and  she  could  not  forgive  her ; 
and  that  seemed  a  very  great  sin.  What  had  she  gained 
in  the  five  years  that  had  gone  by  since  the  beginning  of 
her  noviciate,  if  she  could  not  even  forgive  an  injury? 
That  was  the  question.  Since  her  life  had  led  her  to 
nothing  better  than  smouldering  resentment  and  sharp 
regret,  it  had  not  been  the  holy  life  she  had  meant 
it  to  be  —  the  failure  she  must  score  against  herself  was 
a  total  one,  a  general  defeat  —  and  all  that  she  had 
believed  she  had  been  doing  for  the  dead  man's  sake 


176  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

must  count  for  nothing,  since  she  had  not  once  been 
really  in  a  state  of  grace. 

No  doubt  her  self-accusation  went  too  far,  as  a  con- 
fessor  would  have  told  her,  or  even  the  Mother  Superior, 
if  that  good  and  impulsive  woman  had  known  what  was 
in  her  mind.  But  Sister  Giovanna  did  not  believe  she 
could  go  far  enough  in  finding  fault  with  herself  for  such 
great  sins  as  her  regret  for  a  married  life  that  might  have 
been,  and  her  lasting  anger  against  a  person  who  had 
robbed  her;  and  it  was  while  she  was  standing  at  her 
latticed  window  that  morning  that  she  first  thought  of 
making  an  even  more  complete  sacrifice  by  joining  the 
Sisters  who  intended  to  go  out  to  the  Rangoon  leper 
hospital  in  the  spring. 

It  was  not  with  the  hope  of  dying  young  that  she 
wished  to  go  and  face  death  daily,  but  in  the  earnest 
desire  to  escape  from  what  she  called  her  temptation, 
and  to  regain  that  peace  of  mind  which  had  been  hers 
for  a  long  time  and  now  was  gone.  She  had  made  for 
herself  a  little  treasure-house  of  grace  laid  up,  to  be 
offered  for  Giovanni's  soul,  and  the  gold  of  her  affliction 
and  the  jewels  of  her  unselfish  labours  had  been  gathered 
there  to  help  him.  That  had  been  her  simple  and  in 
nocent  belief,  but  it  had  broken  down  suddenly  as  soon 
as  she  discovered  that  she  was  only  a  human,  resentful, 
regretful  woman  after  all,  as  far  below  the  mystic  de 
tachment  from  the  outward  world  as  she  had  been  in 
those  first  days  of  her  grief,  at  Madame  Bernard's,  when 
she  had  sat  listless  all  the  day  long,  a  broken-hearted 
girl.  What  she  had  taken  for  gold  and  had  stored  up 


THE   WHITE  SISTER  177 

for  Giovanni's  welfare  was  only  the  basest  metal,  her 
jewels  were  but  chips  of  gaudy  glass,  her  sacrifice  was  a 
failure  after  all.  Worse  than  that,  her  dead  man  came 
back  alive  from  his  grave  and  haunted  her  in  dreams, 
threatening  righteous  judgment  on  the  woman  who  had 
cheated  her  and  him  of  earthly  happiness. 

I  shall  not  dwell  on  what  she  felt.  Men  and  women 
who  have  honestly  tried  to  lead  the  good  life  for  years 
and  have  suddenly  realised  that  they  are  as  human  as 
ever  before,  will  understand  what  I  have  written.  The 
rest  must  either  believe  that  it  is  true  or,  not  believing, 
read  on  for  the  sake  of  knowing  Sister  Giovanna's  strange 
story,  or  else  throw  my  book  aside  for  a  dull  novel  not 
worth  reading.  We  cannot  always  be  amusing,  and 
real  life  is  not  always  gay. 

The  young  nun  waited  in  her  cell  till  the  Mother 
Superior  herself  opened  the  door  and  entered.  For  the 
Princess  was  gone,  after  seeing  everything,  praising 
everything  with  the  flattering  indiscrimination  of  total 
ignorance,  and,  finally,  after  asking  permission  to  make 
another  visit.  She  had  spent  ten  minutes  in  the  Mother's 
own  rooms  before  leaving,  and  had  asked  the  names  of 
the  three  Sisters  who  had  taken  care  of  her  in  succession, 
writing  them  down  on  the  back  of  a  visiting-card.  She 
wished  to  remember  them  in  her  prayers,  she  said ;  but 
the  little  white  volcano  almost  laughed  in  her  face,  and 
the  black  diamond  eyes  twinkled  furiously  as  they 
turned  away  to  hide  their  scornful  amusement  —  so 
strong  was  the  nun's  conviction  that  the  new  benefac 
tress  was  a  humbug.  The  Princess  looked  at  the  names 


178  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

quite  calmly  after  she  had  written  them  —  Sister  Saint 
Paul,  Sister  Giovanna,  and  Sister  Marius  —  and  asked 
whether  she  had  seen  any  of  them  during  her  visit.  But 
the  Mother  Superior  answered  that  they  were  all  three 
either  nursing  private  cases  or  not  on  duty,  which  might 
mean  that  they  were  resting  in  their  cells. 

Sister  Giovanna  started  slightly  as  the  door  of  her 
cell  opened,  for  she  had  scarcely  realised  that  she  had 
not  moved  from  the  window  for  a  long  time.  The  elder 
woman  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  knock,  and,  strange 
to  say,  a  faint  blush  rose  in  the  Sister's  face  as  if  she  had 
been  surprised  and  were  a  little  ashamed  of  being  caught 
in  idleness  instead  of  reading  her  breviary  for  the  day  or 
doing  something  useful  with  her  hands.  The  black  eyes 
looked  at  her  searchingly,  for  nothing  escaped  them. 

'What  have  you  been  thinking  of?'  asked  the  impul 
sive  woman. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

'The  Rangoon  lepers/  answered  the  Sister  in  a  quiet 
voice. 

The  Mother  Superior's  white  face  hardened  strangely. 

'The  Princess  Chiaromonte  is  gone,'  she  said  rather 
sharply,  'and  you  are  wanted  in  the  surgical  ward  at 
once.' 

She  turned  without  another  word  and  went  quickly 
away,  leaving  the  door  open.  It  was  clear  that  she  was 
not  pleased  with  the  answer  she  had  received. 

Six  weeks  later  Sister  Giovanna  went  to  her  rooms 
on  the  other  side  of  the  cloistered  court  after  first  chapel 
and  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  a  Monday  morning  in 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  179 

March,  and  she  was  to  be  Supervising  Nurse  for  the 
week,  but  the  custom  was  to  go  on  duty  at  eight  o'clock 
and  it  was  not  yet  seven. 

'Well?'  asked  the  Mother  Superior,  looking  up  from 
her  papers,  while  the  young  nun  remained  standing 
respectfully  at  the  corner  of  the  big  desk. 

The  tone  did  not  invite  confidence ;  for  some  reason  as 
yet  unexplained  the  Mother  had  avoided  speaking  with 
her  best  nurse  since  that  morning  in  the  cell. 

'I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  the  lepers  with  the 
others,  Mother,  if  you  will  give  me  your  permission.' 

The  alabaster  face  suddenly  glowed  like  white  fire  in 
the  early  light,  the  dark  eyebrows  knitted  themselves 
angrily,  and  the  lips  parted  to  speak  a  hasty  word,  but 
immediately  closed  again.  A  long  silence  followed 
Sister  Giovanna's  speech,  and  the  elder  nun  looked  down 
at  her  papers  and  moved  some  of  them  about  mechani 
cally,  from  one  place  to  another  on  the  table. 

'Are  you  angry  with  me,  Mother?'  asked  Sister 
Giovanna,  not  understanding. 

'With  you,  child?'  The  Mother  looked  up,  and  her 
face  had  softened  a  little.  'No,  I  am  not  angry  with 
you  —  at  least,  I  hope  I  am  not.' 

It  was  rather  an  ambiguous  answer,  to  say  the  least, 
and  the  young  nun  waited  meekly  for  an  explanation. 
None  came,  but  instead,  advice,  delivered  in  a  direct 
and  businesslike  tone. 

'You  had  better  put  the  idea  out  of  your  mind  for  a 
month  or  so,  honestly  and  with  all  the  intention  of  which 
you  are  capable.  If  this  is  a  mere  impulse,  felt  under 


180  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

some  mental  distress,  it  will  subside  and  you  will  think 
no  more  about  it.  If  it  is  a  true  call,  it  will  come  back 
and  you  will  obey  it  in  due  time.  More  than  that,  I 
cannot  tell  you.  If  you  are  not  satisfied  that  I  am 
advising  you  well,  go  to  Monsignor  Saracinesca  the  next 
time  he  is  here.  It  is  my  place  to  warn,  not  to  hinder; 
to  help  you  if  I  can,  not  to  stand  in  your  way.  That  is 
all,  my  daughter.  Go  to  your  duties.' 

Sister  Giovanna  bent  her  head  obediently  and  left  the 
room  at  once.  When  she  was  gone,  the  Mother  Superior 
rose  from  her  desk  and  went  into  her  cell,  locking  the 
door  after  her.  An  hour  later  she  was  still  on  her  knees 
and  her  face  was  buried  in  her  hands.  She  was  weeping 
bitterly. 

In  all  that  numerous  community  which  she  governed 
and  guided  so  well  there  was  not  one  person  who  would 
have  believed  that  she  could  shed  tears,  scalding  and 
passionate,  even  rebellious,  perhaps,  if  the  whole  truth 
were  known;  for  no  Sister  or  novice  of  them  all  could 
have  imagined  that  such  irresistible  grief  could  take 
possession  of  a  woman  who,  as  they  all  said  among  them 
selves,  was  made  of  steel  and  ice,  merely  because  one 
more  of  them  wished  to  go  to  the  Far  East  where  so 
many  had  gone  already. 

But  they  did  not  know  anything  about  the  Mother 
Superior.  Indeed,  when  all  was  said,  they  knew  next 
to  nothing  of  her  past,  and  as  it  was  against  all  rules  to 
discuss  such  matters,  it  was  not  likely  that  they  should 
ever  hear  more,  even  if  a  new  Sister  joined  them  who 
chanced  to  have  some  information.  They  were  aware, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  181 

of  course,  that  her  name,  in  religion,  was  Mother  Veron 
ica,  though  they  did  not  speak  of  her  except  as  the 
Mother  Superior.  It  was  true  that  they  had  never 
heard  of  a  nun  of  their  order  taking  the  name  of  Veronica, 
but  that  was  not  a  matter  to  criticise  either.  She  spoke 
exceedingly  pure  Italian,  with  the  accent  and  intonation 
of  a  Roman  lady,  but  it  was  no  secret  that  when  she  had 
come  to  take  the  place  of  her  predecessor,  who  had  died 
suddenly,  she  had  arrived  from  Austria;  and  she  also 
spoke  German  fluently,  which  argued  that  she  had  been 
in  that  country  some  time.  There  was  certainly  nothing 
in  these  few  facts  to  account  for  what  she  suffered  when 
Sister  Giovanna  spoke  of  going  to  Rangoon,  and  it 
would  have  been  hard  to  believe  that  her  burning  tears 
overflowed  in  spite  of  her,  not  only  that  first  time  but 
often  afterwards,  at  the  mere  thought  of  parting  with 
the  best  nurse  in  the  hospital,  even  if  she  felt  some 
special  sympathy  for  her. 

Whatever  the  cause  of  her  trouble  was,  no  one  knew 
of  it ;  and  that  she  found  no  cause  for  self-accusation  in 
what  she  felt  is  clear,  since  she  made  no  mention  of  it  in 
her  next  confession.  Indeed,  she  more  often  found 
fault  with  herself  for  being  harsh  in  her  judgments  and 
too  peremptory  and  tyrannical  in  the  government  of  her 
community,  than  for  giving  way  easily  to  the  impulses 
of  human  sympathy.  She  was  not  nervous  either,  in 
the  sense  of  her  nerves  being  unsteady  or  overwrought 
in  consequence  of  a  long-continued  strain;  there  was 
nothing  in  her  weeping  that  could  have  suggested  a 
neurotic  breakdown  even  to  the  most  sceptical  of 


182  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

physicians.  It  was  genuine,  irresistible,  overwhelming 
grief,  and  she  knew  that  its  cause  was  not  even  in  part 
imaginary,  but  was  altogether  real,  and  terrible  beyond 
any  expression. 

Nevertheless,  she  found  strength  to  speak  to  Monsignor 
Saracinesca  of  Sister  Giovanna's  intention,  one  day  when 
he  came  to  see  her  early  in  the  morning  on  a  matter  of 
business;  for  he  managed  the  finances  of  the  Convent 
hospital  and  was  also  its  representative  in  any  questions 
in  which  the  institution,  as  distinguished  from  the  order, 
had  secular  dealings  with  the  world. 

The  prelate  and  the  Mother  met  as  usual  in  the  clois 
tered  garden,  and  when  Convent  affairs  had  been  dis 
posed  of,  they  continued  their  walk  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments. 

'I  want  your  unprejudiced  opinion  about  the  future 
of  one  of  the  Sisters/  said  the  Mother  Superior  at  last, 
in  her  usual  tone. 

'  I  will  try  to  give  it/  answered  Monsignor  Saracinesca. 

'Sister  Giovanna  wishes  to  go  to  Rangoon  with  the 
other  three/ 

The  churchman  betrayed  no  surprise,  and  answered 
without  hesitation : 

'You  know  what  I  always  say  in  such  cases,  when  I 
am  consulted/ 

'  Yes.  I  have  given  her  that  advice  —  to  wait  a 
month,  to  try  to  put  the  idea  out  of  her  mind,  to  make 
sure  that  it  is  not  a  passing  impulse.' 

'You  cannot  do  more/ said  Monsignor  Saracinesca, 
'  nor  can  I.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  183 

The  Mother  Superior  turned  up  her  white  face  and 
looked  at  him  so  steadily  that  he  gazed  at  her  in  sur 
prise. 

'It  ought  to  be  stopped/  she  said,  with  sudden  energy. 
'It  may  be  wrong  to  call  it  suicide  and  to  interfere  on 
that  ground,  but  there  is  another,  and  a  good  one.  I  am 
responsible  for  the  hospital  here,  for  the  nursing  in  it, 
and  for  the  Sisters  who  are  sent  out  to  private  cases. 
Year  after  year,  one,  two,  and  sometimes  three  of  my 
best  young  nurses  go  away  to  these  leper  asylums  in 
Rangoon  and  other  places  in  the  Far  East.  It  is  not 
the  stupid  ones  that  go,  the  dull,  devoted  creatures  who 
could  do  that  one  thing  well,  because  it  is  perfectly  me 
chanical  and  a  mere  question  of  prophylaxis,  precaution, 
and  routine  —  and  charity.  Those  that  go  always 
seem  to  be  the  best,  the  very  nurses  who  are  invaluable 
in  all  sorts  of  difficult  cases  from  an  operation  to  a 
typhoid  fever;  the  most  experienced,  the  cleverest,  the 
most  gifted !  How  can  I  be  expected  to  keep  up  our 
standard  if  this  goes  on  year  after  year?  It  is  out 
rageous!  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  the  " vocation" 
is  catching !  The  clever  ones  catch  it  because  they  are 
the  most  sensitively  organised,  but  not  the  good,  simple^ 
humdrum  little  women  who  would  be  far  better  at  nurs 
ing  lepers  than  at  a  case  of  appendicitis  —  and  better 
in  heaven  than  in  a  leper  asylum,  for  that  matter ! ' 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  listened  in  silence  to  this  en 
ergetic  tirade;  but  when  the  little  white  volcano  was 
quiescent  for  a  moment,  he  shook  his  head.  It  was  less 
an  expression  of  disapproval  than  of  doubt. 


184  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'  It  is  manifestly  impossible  to  send  the  least  intelligent 
of  the  Sisters,  if  they  do  not  offer  to  go/  he  answered. 
'Besides,  how  would  you  pick  out  the  dull  ones?  By 
examination?' 

He  was  not  without  a  sense  of  humour,  and  his  sharply- 
chiselled  lips  twitched  a  little  but  were  almost  instantly 
grave  again.  The  Mother  Superior's  profile  was  as  still 
as  a  marble  medallion. 

'It  ought  to  be  stopped  altogether/  she  said  presently, 
with  conviction.  'Meanwhile,  though  I  have  told  Sister 
Giovanna  that  it  is  not  my  place  to  hinder  her,  much  less 
my  right,  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  will  prevent  her  from 
going,  if  I  can!' 

This  frank  statement  did  not  surprise  the  prelate, 
who  was  used  to  her  direct  speech  and  energetic  temper, 
and  liked  both.  But  he  said  little  in  answer. 

'That  is  your  affair,  Reverend  Mother.  You  will  do 
what  your  conscience  dictates/ 

'Conscience?'  repeated  the  nun  with  a  resentful 
question  in  her  tone.  'If  the  word  really  means  any 
thing,  which  I  often  doubt,  it  is  an  instinctive  discern 
ment  of  right  and  wrong  in  one's  own  particular  case, 
to  be  applied  to  the  salvation  of  one's  own  soul.  Is  it 
not?' 

'Undoubtedly/ 

'What  have  I  to  do  with  my  own  particular  case?' 
The  volcano  flared  up  indignantly.  'It  is  my  duty  to 
do  what  is  best  for  the  souls  and  bodies  of  forty  women 
and  girls,  more  or  less,  and  of  a  great  number  of  sick 
persons  here  and  in  their  own  homes,  without  consider- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  185 

ing  myself  at  all,  my  instincts,  or  my  little  individual 
discernment  of  my  own  feelings,  or  my  human  likes  and 
dislikes  of  people.  If  my  duty  leads  me  into  temptation, 
I  have  got  to  face  temptation  intentionally,  instead  of 
avoiding  it,  as  we  are  taught  to  do,  and  if  I  break  down 
under  it,  so  much  the  worse  for  me  —  the  good  of  the 
others  will  have  been  accomplished  nevertheless  !  That 
is  one  side  of  my  life.  Another  is  that  if  my  duty  de 
mands  that  I  should  tear  out  my  heart  and  trample  on 
it,  I  ought  not  to  hesitate,  though  I  knew  I  was  to  die 
of  the  pain  ! ' 

The  clear  low  voice  vibrated  strangely. 

'But  I  will  not  do  it,  unless  it  is  to  bring  about  some 
real  good  to  others/  she  added. 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  glanced  at  her  face  again  before 
he  answered. 

'  Your  words  are  clear  enough,  but  I  do  not  understand 
you/  he  said.  'If  I  can  possibly  help  you,  tell  me  what 
it  is  that  distresses  you.  If  not,  let  us  talk  of  other 
things/ 

'You  cannot  help  me/  Her  thin  lips  closed  upon  each 
other  in  an  even  line. 

'I  am  sorry/  answered  the  churchman  gravely.  'As 
for  Sister  Giovanna's  intention,  I  share  your  opinion, 
for  I  think  she  can  do  more  good  here  than  by  sacri 
ficing  herself  in  Burmah.  If  she  consults  me,  I  shall 
tell  her  so/ 

'Thank  you/ 

They  parted,  and  the  Mother  Superior  went  back  to 
her  room  and  her  work  with  a  steady  step  and  holding 


186  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

her  head  high.  But  she  did  not  even  see  a  lay  sister  who 
was  scrubbing  her  small  private  staircase,  and  who  rose 
to  let  her  pass,  saluting  her  as  she  went  by. 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  left  the  garden  by  the  glass 
door  that  opened  into  the  large  hall,  already  described, 
and  he  went  out  past  the  portress's  little  lodge.  She 
was  just  opening  the  outer  door  when  he  came  up  with 
her,  and  the  next  moment  he  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  Madame  Bernard.  He  stepped  back  politely  to 
let  her  pass,  and  lifted  his  hat  with  a  smile  of  recognition ; 
but  instead  of  advancing  she  uttered  a  little  cry  of  sur 
prise  and  satisfaction,  and  retreated  to  let  him  come  out. 
He  noticed  that  her  face  betrayed  great  excitement, 
and  she  seemed  hardly  able  to  speak. 

'What  is  the  matter?7  he  asked  kindly,  as  he  emerged 
from  the  deep  doorway. 

The  portress  was  waiting  for  Madame  Bernard  to  enter, 
but  the  Frenchwoman  had  changed  her  mind  and  held 
up  her  hand,  shaking  one  forefinger. 

'Not  to-day,  Anna!'  she  cried.  'Or  later  — I  will 
come  back,  perhaps  —  I  cannot  tell.  May  I  walk  a  few 
steps  with  you,  Monseigneur  ? ' 

'By  all  means/  answered  the  prelate. 

The  door  of  the  Convent  closed  behind  them,  but 
Madame  Bernard  was  evidently  anxious  to  get  well  out 
of  hearing  before  she  spoke.  At  the  corner  of  the  quiet 
street  she  suddenly  stood  still  and  looked  up  to  her  com 
panion's  face,  evidently  in  great  perturbation. 

'Well?'    he  asked.    'What  is  it?' 

'Giovanni  Severi  is  alive.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  187 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  thought  the  good  woman  was 
dreaming. 

'It  is  impossible/  he  said  emphatically. 

'On  the  contrary/  returned  Madame  Bernard,  'it  is 
perfectly  true.  If  you  do  not  believe  me,  look  at  this !; 

She  opened  her  governess's  reticule  and  fumbled 
amongst  the  little  school-books  and  papers  it  contained. 
In  a  moment  she  brought  out  a  letter,  sealed,  stamped, 
and  postmarked,  and  held  it  up  before  the  tall  prelate's 
eyes. 

It  was  addressed  to  'Donna  Angela  Chiaromonte/  to 
the  care  of  Madame  Bernard  at  the  latter's  lodgings  in 
Trastevere,  the  stamp  was  an  Italian  one,  and  the  post 
mark  was  that  of  the  military  post-office  in  Massowah. 
Monsignor  Saracinesca  looked  at  the  envelope  curiously, 
took  it  from  Madame  Bernard  and  examined  the  stamped 
date.  Then  he  asked  her  if  she  was  quite  sure  of  the 
handwriting,  and  she  assured  him  that  she  was ;  Giovanni 
had  written  before  he  started  into  the  interior  with  the 
expedition,  and  she  herself  had  received  the  letter  from 
the  postman  and  had  given  it  to  Angela.  What  was 
more,  after  Angela  had  gone  to  live  at  the  Convent, 
Madame  Bernard  had  found  the  old  envelope  of  the 
letter  in  a  drawer  and  had  kept  it,  and  she  had  just 
looked  at  it  before  leaving  her  house. 

'He  is  alive/  she  said  with  conviction ;  'he  has  written 
this  letter  to  her,  and  he  does  not  know  that  she  is  a  nun. 
He  is  coming  home,  I  am  sure!' 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  was  a  man  of  great  heart  and 
wide  experience,  but  such  a  case  as  this  had  never  come 


1SS  THE   WHITE  SISTER 

to  his  knowledge.  He  stood  still  in  deep  thought,  bend 
ing  a  little  as  he  rested  both  his  hands  on  the  battered 
silver  knob  of  his  old  stick. 

'He  is  coming  home!'  repeated  Madame  Bernard  in 
great  distress.  'What  are  we  to  do?' 

'What  were  you  going  to  do  just  now,  when  I  met  you 
at  the  door?'  asked  the  prelate. 

1 1  do  not  know  !  I  was  going  to  see  her !  Perhaps 
I  would  have  broken  the  news  to  her  gently,  perhaps  I 
would  have  said  nothing  and  kept  the  letter  to  give  it 
to  her  at  another  time !  How  can  I  tell  what  I  would 
have  done?  It  would  have  depended  so  much  on  the 
way  she  took  the  first  suggestion !  People  have  died  of 
joy,  Monseigneur !  A  little  weakness  of  the  heart,  a 
sudden  joyful  surprise,  it  stops  beating  —  that  has  hap 
pened  before  now!' 

'Yes.  It  has  happened  before  now.  I  knew  of  such 
a  case  myself.' 

'And  I  adore  the  child !'  cried  the  impulsive  French 
woman,  ready  to  burst  into  tears.  'Oh,  what  shall  we 
do?  What  ought  we  to  do?' 

'Do  you  know  the  Mother  Superior?' 

'Oh  yes !  Quite  well.  Are  you  going  to  tell  me  that 
I  should  take  the  letter  to  her?  She  is  a  cold,  hard 
woman,  Monseigneur !  A  splendid  woman  to  manage 
a  hospital,  perhaps,  but  she  has  no  more  heart  than  a 
steel  machine !  She  will  burn  the  letter,  and  never  tell 
any  one!' 

'I  think  you  are  mistaken  about  her,'  answered  the 
churchman  gravely.  'She  has  more  heart  than  most 


THE   WHITE  SISTER  189 

of  us,  and  I  believe  that  even  you  yourself  are  not  more 
devoted  to  Sister  Giovanna  than  she  is.7 

'Really,  Monseigneur?  Is  it  possible?  Are  you 
sure?  What  makes  you  think  so?' 

'To  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  what  I  have 
told  you  is  the  truth,  though  I  might  find  it  hard  to  ex 
plain  my  reasons  for  saying  so.  But  before  you  go  to 
the  Mother  Superior,  or  speak  of  the  matter  to  Sister 
Giovanna,  there  is  something  else  to  be  done.  This  let 
ter,  by  some  strange  accident  of  the  post,  may  have  been 
written  before  Giovanni  Severi  died.  There  is  a  bare 
possibility  that  it  may  have  been  mislaid  in  the  post- 
office,  or  that  he  may  have  given  it  to  a  comrade  to  post, 
who  forgot  it  —  many  things  may  happen  to  a  letter/ 

'Well?    What  must  I  do?' 

'If  he  is  alive,  the  fact  is  surely  known  already  at 
headquarters,  and  you  should  make  inquiries.  To  give 
Sister  Giovanna  a  letter  from  the  dead  man  would  be 
wrong,  in  my  opinion,  for  it  would  cause  her  needless 
and  harmful  pain.  If  he  is  dead,  it  should  be  burned, 
I  think.  But  if  he  is  really  alive,  after  all,  you  have  no 
right  to  burn  it,  and  sooner  or  later  she  must  have  it  and 
know  the  truth,  with  as  little  danger  to  her  health  and 
peace  of  mind  as  possible.' 

'You  are  right,  Monseigneur/  answered  Madame  Ber 
nard.  'What  you  say  is  full  of  wisdom.  I  have  three 
lessons  to  give  this  morning,  and  as  soon  as  I  am  free  I 
will  go  myself  to  the  house  of  a  superior  officer  whose 
daughter  I  used  to  teach,  and  he  will  find  out  the  truth 
by  the  telephone  in  a  few  minutes.' 


190  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'I  think  that  is  the  best  course/  said  the  churchman. 

So  they  parted,  for  he  was  going  to  Saint  Peter's,  and 
she  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  nearest  tramway, 
hastening  to  her  pupils.  And  meanwhile  the  inevitable 
advanced  on  its  unchanging  course. 

For  Giovanni  Severi  was  alive  and  well,  and  was  on 
his  way  to  Rome. 


CHAPTER  XI 

GIOVANNI  SEVERI'S  adventures,  between  his  supposed 
death  in  the  massacre  of  the  expedition  and  his  unex 
pected  reappearance  at  Massowah  nearly  five  years 
later,  would  fill  an  interesting  little  volume  in  them 
selves;  but  inasmuch  as  an  account  of  them  would  not 
make  this  story  clearer  and  would  occupy  much  space, 
it  is  enough  to  state  the  bare  facts  in  a  few  words.  Such 
tales  of  danger,  suffering,  and  endurance  have  often 
been  told  at  first  hand,  by  the  heroes  of  them,  far  more 
vividly  and  correctly  than  a  mere  story-teller  can  narrate 
them  on  hearsay. 

The  expedition  had  been  attacked  and  destroyed  by 
a  handful  of  natives  from  a  wandering  tribe  that  was 
camping  very  near.  Within  a  few  minutes  their  chief 
was  informed  of  what  they  had  done,  and  he  rode  out  to 
the  spot  with  a  large  body  of  men  at  his  heels.  Among 
the  dead,  Giovanni  Severi  lay  bleeding  from  a  gash  in 
the  head,  but  not  mortally  hurt.  The  chief  was  by  no 
means  a  mere  dull  savage,  and  finding  an  Italian  officer 
alive,  he  recognised  at  once  that  it  would  be  a  mistake 
to  knock  him  on  the  head  and  leave  him  with  his  com 
rades  to  be  disposed  of  by  the  vultures  and  hyaenas.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  must  not  be  allowed  to  escape  to  the 
Italian  colony  with  news  of  the  disaster.  At  some  fu 
ture  time,  and  from  a  safe  distance,  it  might  be  possible 

191 


192  THK  WHITE  SISTER 

to  obtain  a  large  ransom  for  him ;  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  a  large  force  were  ever  sent  up  the  country  to  revenge 
the  outrage,  it  might  be  to  the  credit  of  the  chief  if  he  could 
prove  that  the  deed  had  been  done  without  his  know 
ledge  and  that  he  had  treated  the  only  survivor  hu 
manely.  He  therefore  took  possession  of  Giovanni  and 
provided  for  his  safety  in  a  simple  manner  by  merely 
stating  that  if  the  prisoner  escaped  he  would  cut  off  ten 
heads,  but  if  any  harm  came  to  him,  he  would  cut  off  at 
least  a  hundred.  As  no  one  doubted  but  that  he  would 
k<.rp  his  word,  as  he  invariably  did  in  such  matters, 
Giovanni  had  but  small  chance  of  ever  regaining  his 
liberty,  and  none  at  all  presented  itself  for  nearly  five 
years.  During  that  time  he  travelled  with  his  captors 
or  lived  in  camps,  many  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  out 
posts  of  civilisation ;  he  learned  their  language  and  the 
chief  insisted  on  learning  his,  as  it  might  be  useful; 
furthermore,  he  was  required  to  teach  his  master  what 
ever  he  could  about  modem  warfare  and  what  little  he 
knew  of  agriculture  and  its  arts  of  peace.  In  return 
he  was  well  fed,  well  lodged  when  possible,  and  as  well 
clad  as  any  man  in  the  tribe  except  the  chief  himself, 
which  was  not  saying  much. 

His  chance  came  at  last  and  he  did  not  let  it  pass. 
It  involved  killing  one  of  his  guards,  stunning  another, 
and  seizing  the  chief's  own  camel,  and  it  was  not  without 
great  risk  to  his  life  that  he  got  away.  A  fortnight 
later  he  had  travelled  five  hundred  miles  and  reported 
himself  at  headquarters  in  Massowah,  dressed  in  a  long 
native  shirt,  a  dirty  turban,  and  nothing  else,  as  Cap- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  193 

tain  Giovanni  Severi,  formerly  of  the  Staff  and  late  of 
the  expedition  that  had  perished  five  years  earlier. 

It  chanced,  for  the  inevitable  was  at  work,  that  the 
mail  steamer  for  Italy  was  to  leave  the  next  morning 
and  a  small  man-of-war  on  the  following  day,  also  home 
ward  bound.  Giovanni  wrote  to  Angela  Chiaromonte 
by  the  former  and  went  on  board  the  Government  vessel 
twenty-four  hours  afterwards.  He  himself  sent  no 
telegram,  because  he  did  not  know  where  his  brothers 
were  and  he  feared  lest  a  telegraphic  message  might  give 
Angela  a  bad  shock,  if  it  reached  her  at  all.  Moreover, 
he  had  no  news  of  her  and  could  get  no  information 
whatever,  so  that  he  addressed  his  letter  to  Madame 
Bernard's  old  lodgings  on  the  mere  possibility  that  it 
might  reach  its  destination. 

Any  one  might  have  supposed  that  the  news  of  his 
escape  would  have  been  in  the  papers  before  he 
reached  Italy,  for  it  was  telegraphed  to  the  War  Office 
in  Rome  by  the  officer  in  command  of  the  force  at  Masso- 
wah.  But  the  Minister  chose  to  keep  the  intelligence 
a  secret  till  Giovanni's  arrival,  because  he  expected  to 
gain  much  information  from  him  and  feared  lest  the 
newspapers  should  get  hold  of  him  and  learn  facts  from 
him  which  would  be  more  useful  to  Italy  if  not  made 
public ;  and  when  the  Italian  Government  wishes  to  keep 
a  secret,  it  can  do  so  quite  as  well  as  any  other,  to  the 
despair  of  the  public  press. 

The  consequence  of  the  Minister's  instructions  was 
that  Giovanni  was  met  by  a  superior  officer  who  came 
on  board  the  man-of-war  at  Naples  in  order  to  forestall 


194  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

any  possible  attempt  on  the  part  of  correspondents  to 
get  hold  of  him,  and  also  for  the  purpose  of  giving  him 
further  directions  for  his  conduct.  He  was  to  proceed 
to  Rome  at  once,  and  the  Minister  would  receive  him 
privately  on  the  following  day  at  twelve  o'clock.  He 
was  recommended  not  to  go  to  an  hotel,  but  to  put  up 
with  his  brother,  who,  as  he  now  learned,  was  at  Monte- 
verde,  and  had  been  privately  informed  of  his  arrival 
and  warned  to  be  discreet. 

The  mail  steamer  which  had  brought  Giovanni's 
letter  to  Madame  Bernard  had  stopped  at  Port  Said, 
Alexandria,  and  Messina,  but  the  man-of-war  came 
direct  to  Naples,  and  though  slower  than  the  packet- 
boat,  arrived  there  only  a  few  hours  later.  Madame 
Bernard's  inquiries,  made  through  the  old  colonel  whose 
daughter  she  had  formerly  taught,  proved  fruitless, 
because  the  War  Office  would  not  allow  Giovanni's  com 
ing  to  be  known,  and  the  result  was  that  she  took  the 
letter  home  with  her  in  her  bag,  and  spent  the  evening 
in  a  very  disturbed  state  of  mind,  debating  with  herself 
as  to  what  she  ought  to  do.  She  would  have  given  any 
thing  to  open  the  envelope,  if  only  to  see  the  date,  and 
once  or  twice,  when  she  reflected  on  the  importance  of 
knowing  whether  the  writer  was  alive  before  giving  his 
letter  to  Sister  Giovanna,  she  almost  yielded;  but  not 
quite,  for  she  was  an  honourable  little  woman,  according 
to  her  lights. 

Late  on  that  night  Giovanni  got  into  the  train  that 
was  to  bring  him  to  Rome  before  Madame  Bernard 
would  be  ready  to  go  out  in  the  morning. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  195 

Ugo  Seven  had  been  summoned  by  the  Minister  some 
days  previously,  and  had  been  told  that  his  brother  was 
alive  and  coming  home,  and  would  lodge  with  him. 
Meanwhile  Captain  Ugo  was  put  on  his  honour  to  say 
nothing  of  the  matter  to  his  friends.  Such  a  recom 
mendation  was,  in  fact,  needed,  as  Ugo  would  otherwise 
have  informed  the  Princess  Chiaromonte,  if  no  one  else. 
Considering  how  much  feeling  she  had  shown  about 
Giovanni's  supposed  death,  it  would  have  been-  only 
humane  to  do  so;  but  the  Minister's  instructions  were 
precise  and  emphatic,  and  Ugo  kept  what  he  knew  to 
himself  and  thought  about  it  so  continually  that  Con 
fucianism  temporarily  lost  its  interest  for  him. 

He  had  always  been  on  good  terms  with  Giovanni, 
though  they  had  not  seen  much  of  each  other  after  the 
latter  was  appointed  to  the  Staff.  As  for  the  brother 
who  was  in  the  Navy,  Ugo  rarely  saw  him  or  even  heard 
of  him,  and  since  their  father  had  died  he  himself  had  led 
a  very  lonely  existence.  His  delight  on  learning  that 
Giovanni  had  escaped  and  was  returning  may  be  im 
agined,  for,  in  spite  of  his  apparent  coldness  and  love  of 
solitude,  he  was  a  man  of  heart,  and  like  many  Italians 
of  all  classes  his  ideal  of  happiness  would  have  been  to 
live  quietly  under  one  roof  with  his  brothers  and  sister. 
There  is  probably  no  other  people  in  the  world  that  finds 
such  permanent  satisfaction  in  wThat  most  of  us  would 
think  a  dull  family  life.  It  is  a  survival  of  the  ancient 
patriarchal  way  of  living,  when  the  ' family'  was  a  re 
ligion  and  its  head  was  at  once  its  absolute  ruler  and  its 
high  priest. 


190  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  only  preparation  which  Ugo  had  made  for  receiv 
ing  Giovanni  was  the  purchase  of  an  iron  folding  camp- 
bed.  He  told  his  orderly  that  a  brother  officer  of  his 
might  have  to  spend  a  night  in  the  house  before  long, 
which  was  strictly  true.  In  due  time  a  soldier  on  a  bicy 
cle  brought  him  an  official  note  from  the  Minister,  in 
forming  him  that  Giovanni  had  reached  Naples  and 
would  appear  at  Monteverde  on  the  following  morning. 
This  note  came  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  Ugo  thought 
it  needless  to  inform  Pica,  as  Giovanni  would  certainly 
not  wish  to  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  so  that 
the  little  bedstead  need  not  be  set  up  till  he  actually 
came. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  evening,  Ugo  rose  from  his  easy- 
chair,  stretched  himself,  and  whistled  for  Pica  as  usual. 
The  orderly  brought  him  his  boots,  his  cloak,  his  sabre, 
and  his  cap,  all  of  which  he  put  on,  as  he  always  did, 
before  going  downstairs,  for  it  was  the  hour  at  which  he 
invariably  inspected  the  neighbourhood.  It  was  his 
practice  to  begin  by  walking  round  the  outside  of  the 
enclosure,  his  man  carrying  a  good  lantern;  he  then 
examined  the  interior  of  the  space,  and  finally  visited 
the  guard-room  and  exchanged  a  word  with  the  officer 
on  duty  for  the  night.  Of  late,  he  had  occasionally  gone 
out  again  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock,  before  going 
to  bed;  for  two  or  three  suspicious-looking  characters 
had  been  seen  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  magazine, 
like  the  man  in  the  battered  brown  hat  who  had  come 
upon  Pica  one  afternoon  and  had  asked  his  way.  There 
was,  in  fact,  a  disquieting  suspicion  at  headquarters  that 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  197 

an  attempt  might  be  made  to  blow  up  one  of  the  maga 
zines  ;  the  detachments  of  soldiers  on  duty  had  therefore 
been  strengthened  and  the  officers  in  charge  had  been 
instructed  to  exercise  the  greatest  vigilance. 

When  Captain  Ugo  went  out  of  his  door  as  usual,  with 
Pica  at  his  heels,  the  night  was  dark  and  it  was  just  be 
ginning  to  rain.  The  two  went  directly  from  the  little 
house  to  the  gate  of  the  enclosure,  and  Ugo  answered 
the  sentry's  challenge  mechanically  and  walked  briskly 
along  the  straight  wall  to  the  corner.  Turning  to  the 
right  then,  he  was  following  the  next  stretch  at  a 
good  pace  when  he  stumbled  and  nearly  fell  over  some 
thing  that  lay  in  his  path.  As  Pica  held  up  the  lantern 
close  behind  him,  a  man  sprang  up  from  the  ground, 
where  he  must  have  been  lying  asleep,  probably  in 
liquor.  By  the  uncertain  light  and  in  the  rain,  Ugo 
saw  only  the  blurred  vision  of  an  individual  in  a  ragged 
and  dripping  overcoat,  with  an  ugly,  blotched  face  and 
a  ruined  hat. 

An  instant  later,  and  just  as  Ugo  was  challenging  the 
man,  two  shots  were  fired.  The  first  smashed  and  ex 
tinguished  the  lantern  in  Pica's  hand  without  hurting 
him ;  the  second  took  effect,  and  the  Captain  staggered 
against  the  wall,  but  instead  of  falling,  sat  down  sud 
denly  on  the  wet  ground  with  his  back  against  the  ma 
sonry.  The  ruffian  was  gone  and  Pica  had  dashed  after 
him  in  a  fruitless  pursuit,  for  the  breaking  of  the  lantern 
in  his  hand  had  checked  the  orderly  as  he  was  about  to 
spring  at  the  miscreant,  who  thus  gained  a  sufficient 
start  to  ensure  his  escape. 


198  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

In  a  few  seconds  the  officer  on  duty  and  three  or  four 
of  the  men  were  on  the  spot  with  lights. 

'You  will  have  to  carry  me/  said  the  Captain  calmly 
enough.  '  I  am  shot  in  the  foot  and  something  is  broken. 
Turn  out  the  guard,  Lieutenant,  as  a  matter  of  principle 
and  have  the  neighbourhood  searched,  though  you  will 
not  find  any  one  now.  The  fellow  has  got  clean  away.' 

The  men  lifted  him  and  carried  him  towards  his  house. 
Before  they  reached  the  door  Pica  met  them,  breathing 
hard  and  muttering  Sicilian  imprecations  on  the  man 
who  had  wounded  his  master  and  got  away ;  but  while 
the  Captain  was  being  taken  upstairs  the  orderly  lit  a 
candle  and  went  to  the  telephone  in  the  hall.  He  glanced 
at  the  address-book  and  then  without  hesitation  he  asked 
the  central  office  to  give  him  Princess  Chiaromonte's 
number.  His  reason  for  doing  so  was  simple:  she  was 
the  only  person  in  Rome  who  had  ever  appeared  in  the 
light  of  a  friend  of  the  Captain's  family;  she  would  do 
the  right  thing  at  once,  Pica  thought,  and  would  send 
the  best  surgeon  in  Rome  out  to  Monteverde  in  a  motor 
in  the  shortest  possible  time.  She  was  at  home  that 
evening,  as  it  turned  out,  and  at  Pica's  request  she  came 
to  the  telephone  herself  and  heard  his  story. 

She  answered  that  she  would  try  and  get  Doctor  Pieri  to 
go  at  once  in  her  own  motor,  as  he  had  the  reputation  of 
being  the  best  surgeon  in  the  city,  but  that  if  he  could 
not  be  found  she  would  send  another  doctor  without 
delay.  Pica  went  upstairs  and  found  the  Captain 
stretched  on  his  bed  in  his  wet  clothes,  while  the  three 
soldiers  who  had  carried  him  up  were  trying  to  pull  his 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  199 

boot  off  instead  of  cutting  it.  One  of  the  younger  offi 
cers  from  the  magazine  was  already  scouring  the  neigh 
bourhood  in  obedience  to  Ugo's  orders. 

Pica  sent  the  men  away  at  once  with  the  authority 
which  a  favourite  orderly  instinctively  exercises  over 
his  less  fortunate  comrades.  He  was  neither  stupid  nor 
quite  unskilled,  however,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  had 
slit  the  Captain's  boot  down  the  seam  at  the  back  and 
removed  it  almost  without  hurting  him,  as  well  as  the 
merino  sock.  The  small  round  wound  was  not  bleeding 
much,  but  it  was  clear  that  the  bone  of  the  ankle  was 
badly  injured  and  the  whole  foot  was  already  much 
swollen.  The  revolver  had  evidently  been  of  small 
calibre,  but  the  charge  had  been  heavy  and  the  damage 
was  considerable.  Pica  had  the  sense  not  to  attempt 
to  make  any  bandage  beyond  laying  two  soft  folded 
handkerchiefs  one  upon  the  other  to  the  wound  and 
loosely  confining  them  with  a  silk  one.  While  he  was 
busy  with  this,  he  explained  what  he  had  done.  The 
Captain,  who  knew  that  he  was  badly  hurt  and  guessed 
that  he  might  be  lamed  for  life  by  unskilful  treatment, 
was  glad  to  hear  that  the  famous  Pieri  had  been  called. 
He  said  that  he  felt  no  pain  worth  speaking  of,  and  he 
questioned  his  man  as  to  the  latter's  impression  of  what 
had  happened.  Pica  did  not  believe  in  anarchists  and 
gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  ruffian  was  an  ordinary 
bad  character  who  was  in  daily  expectation  of  being 
arrested  for  some  crime  and  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  his 
cups,  not  knowing  that  he  was  close  to  the  magazine. 
Being  awakened  suddenly,  he  had  probably  supposed 


200  Tin:  WHITE  SISTKR 

himself  overtaken  by  justice,  had  fired  and  run  away. 
The  explanation  was  plausible,  at  all  events.  Neither 
Ugo  nor  his  man  believed  that  any  one  would  really  try 
to  blow  up  the  place,  for  they  regarded  that  as  quite 
impossible  without  the  collusion  of  some  one  of  the 
soldiers,  which  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

While  they  were  talking,  Pica  managed  to  get  off  the 
Captain's  outer  clothes;  but  as  they  were  partly  wet 
with  rain,  the  bed  was  now  damp.  He  therefore  went 
and  got  the  new  camp  bedstead  and  set  it  up,  spread 
dry  blankets  and  sheets  over  it,  and  lifted  Ugo  to  it  with 
out  letting  the  injured  foot  hang  down,  for  he  was  a 
fairly  strong  man  and  was  far  from  clumsy. 

The  change  had  just  been  successfully  made  when  a 
motor  was  heard  coming  up  the  short  stretch  from  the 
high-road  to  the  house,  and  Pica  hastened  downstairs 
to  open  the  door  for  the  surgeon.  To  his  surprise,  but 
much  to  his  satisfaction,  the  Princess  Chiaromonte  was 
the  first  to  get  out  in  the  rain,  bareheaded,  but  muffled 
in  a  waterproof.  She  had  no  footman  and  no  umbrella, 
and  she  made  a  quick  dash  for  the  door,  followed  at 
once  by  Doctor  Pieri.  She  recognised  the  handsome 
orderly  and  smiled  at  him  as  she  shook  the  rain-drops 
from  her  hair  and  then  gave  him  her  cloak. 

'Is  he  badly  hurt?'  she  asked  quickly;  but  sho  saw 
from  Pica's  face  that  it  was  not  a  matter  of  life  and  death, 
and  she  did  not  wait  for  his  answer.  'We  will  go  up 
stairs  at  once/  she  added,  leading  the  way  to  the  steps. 

On  learning  that  Ugo  was  already  in  bed,  she  said  she 
would  wait  in  the  large  sitting-room  while  the  doctor 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  201 

went  in  to  see  what  could  be  done.  If  the  Captain  would 
see  her,  she  would  speak  to  him  when  Fieri  had  finished 
his  work. 

Nearly  three-quarters  of  an  hour  passed  before  he 
joined  her. 

'It  is  a  bad  fracture/  he  said,  'and  it  will  require  an 
operation  if  he  is  not  to  be  lamed  for  life.  I  should  much 
prefer  to  perform  it  in  a  proper  place.  There  is  none 
better  than  the  private  hospital  of  the  White  Sisters 
and  it  is  by  far  the  nearest.  Do  you  happen  to  know 
the  place?' 

The  Princess  said  that  she  did  and  that  she  was  a 
patroness  of  the  Convent.  The  surgeon  observed  that 
it  was  now  past  eleven,  and  that  the  patient  could  not 
be  moved  before  morning.  If  she  agreed  with  him  and 
would  lend  her  motor  for  the  purpose,  he  would  com 
municate  with  the  hospital  arid  take  the  Captain  there 
himself  between  eight  and  nine  o'clock.  For  the  present 
he  needed  no  special  nursing,  and  the  orderly  seemed  to 
be  an  unusually  intelligent  young  fellow,  who  could 
be  trusted  and  was  sincerely  attached  to  his  master. 
The  Princess  agreed  to  everything,  and  asked  whether  the 
Captain  wished  to  see  her. 

He  did,  and  when  she  stood  beside  him  he  pressed  her 
hand  gratefully  and  thanked  her  with  real  feeling  for 
her  great  kindness.  She  answered,  before  Pica,  that 
she  would  always  do  anything  in  her  power  for  any  one 
of  his  name,  and  she  explained  that  she  would  be  at  the 
hospital  on  the  following  morning  to  see  that  he  had 
a  good  private  room  and  received  special  care.  He 


202  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

thanked  her  again  and  bade  her  good-night.  Two  or 
three  minutes  later  he  heard  the  motor  puffing  and 
wheezing,  and  Pica  came  back  after  shutting  the  door. 
Ugo  now  sent  him  over  to  the  guard-room  with  a  message 
to  the  lieutenant  on  duty,  requesting  him  to  write  a 
brief  official  account  of  the  occurrence  and  to  send  it  by 
hand  to  headquarters  the  next  morning.  It  was  neces 
sary  that  another  officer  should  take  Ugo's  place  in  com 
mand  of  the  fort  while  he  was  in  hospital. 

Pica  came  back  again  in  a  few  moments.  Then  Ugo 
insisted  on  having  writing-materials,  and  sat  up,  propped 
with  cushions,  while  he  wrote  a  short  note  to  the  Minis 
ter  of  War,  explaining  what  had  happened,  and  that  he 
would  not  leave  his  home  on  the  morrow  till  his  brother 
had  arrived,  but  that  some  further  arrangement  must  be 
made  if  Giovanni  was  to  lodge  in  the  house,  which  would 
probably  be  wanted  for  the  officer  who  was  to  take  his 
own  place.  Pica  was  to  be  at  the  Minister's  own  resi 
dence  at  seven  o'clock  with  this  note  and  was  to  wait 
for  an  answer.  The  Minister  was  known  to  be  a  very 
early  riser  and  would  have  plenty  of  time  to  arrange 
matters  as  he  thought  best. 

Ugo  was  now  in  a  good  deal  of  pain,  and  it  seemed  very 
long  before  the  panes  of  his  window  turned  from  black 
to  grey  as  the  dawn  fore-lightened.  He  made  Pica 
get  him  coffee,  and  soon  after  sunrise  the  orderly  brought 
one  of  the  men  from  the  guard-house  to  remain  within 
call  in  case  the  Captain  needed  anything.  Pica  took 
his  bicycle  and  went  off  to  the  city  with  the  note  for 
the  Minister. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  203 

As  Ugo  had  anticipated,  Giovanni  arrived  in  a  station 
cab  while  the  orderly  was  still  absent,  and  was  admitted 
by  the  soldier,  on  his  representing  that  he  was  a  relation 
of  the  Captain's  and  had  come  a  long  distance  to  see  him. 
The  man  briefly  explained  that  Ugo  was  in  bed,  having 
been  wounded  in  the  foot  during  the  night,  but  was  in 
no  danger.  A  moment  later  the  brothers  were  together. 

Ugo  saw  a  man  standing  beside  his  bed  and  holding 
out  his  hand  whom  he  would  certainly  not  have  recog 
nised  if  he  had  met  him  in  the  street.  His  skin  was 
almost  as  dark  as  an  Arab's,  and  he  wore  a  brown  beard 
which  had  reddened  in  streaks  under  the  African  sun. 
He  was  as  lean  as  a  half-starved  greyhound,  but  did 
not  look  ill,  and  his  eyes  were  fiery  and  deeper  set 
than  formerly.  His  head  had  been  shaved  when  he 
had  worn  a  turban,  but  the  hair  was  now  more  than 
half  an  inch  long,  and  was  as  thick  as  a  beaver's  fur. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  thin  grey  clothes  which  he 
had  picked  up  in  Massowah,  and  which  did  not  fit  him, 
and  his  canvas  shoes  were  in  a  bad  way.  When  he 
spoke,  it  was  with  a  slight  accent,  unlike  any  that  Ugo 
had  heard,  and  he  occasionally  hesitated  as  if  trying  to 
find  a  word. 

After  the  first  greetings,  he  sat  down  and  told  the 
main  facts  of  his  story.  When  he  paused  the  two  looked 
at  each  other  and  after  a  while  they  laughed. 

'The  disguise  is  complete/  Ugo  said.  'But  are  you 
going  to  call  on  the  Minister  in  those  clothes?  If  you 
are  seen  near  the  magazine  in  that  condition  you  will 
be  warned  off  and  I  shall  have  to  explain  who  you  are.' 


204  THI:  WHITE  SISTER 

'I  suppose  I  could  get  into  a  uniform  of  yours,  since 
I  have  grown  thin/  Giovanni  answered.  'We  are  the 
same  height,  I  remember,  and  as  I  am  in  the  artillery 
no  one  can  find  fault  with  me  for  wearing  the  uniform 
of  another  regiment  than  my  own,  in  an  emergency. 
It  will  be  better  than  presenting  myself  before  the  Min 
ister  in  these  rags !  I  suppose  you  have  got  your  cap 
taincy  by  this  time?' 

'.Six  months  ago!' 

They  talked  on,  and  Ugo  explained  that  he  was  to  be 
taken  to  the  hospital  of  the  White  Sisters  soon  after 
eight  o'clock. 

'I  shall  go  with  you/  Giovanni  answered,  'and  see  you 
installed  in  your  room.  The  Minister  does  not  want 
me  till  twelve  o'clock/ 

They  agreed  to  tell  Pica,  when  he  returned,  that 
Giovanni  was  an  artillery  officer  and  a  relative  who  had 
just  arrived  from  a  long  journey  without  any  luggage. 
As  the  orderly  had  known  that  the  Captain  expected 
a  visitor  before  long,  he  would  not  be  surprised,  and  the 
relationship  would  account  for  Giovanni's  name. 

The  latter  selected  an  undress  uniform  from  his 
brother's  well-stocked  wardrobe  and  proceeded  to  scrub 
and  dress  in  the  adjoining  dressing-room,  talking  to  Ugo 
through  the  open  door  and  asking  him  questions  about 
old  friends  and  comrades.  Ugo  told  him  of  the  Princess 
Chiaromonte's  visit  and  of  her  kindness  in  coming  with 
Doctor  Pieri  on  the  previous  evening.  Giovanni  ap 
peared  at  tho  door,  half  dressed. 

'  Did  you  tell  her  that  I  am  alive  ? '  he  asked. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  205 

'No.  The  Ministry  has  made  an  official  secret  of  it, 
so  I  have  told  no  one.7 

'And  you  say  that  she  will  be  at  the  hospital  this 
morning !  We  shall  meet,  then.  I  wonder  whether 
she  will  know  me/ 

'It  is  impossible,  I  should  say/  Ugo  answered,  looking 
at  his  brother's  lean  face  and  heavy  beard.  'I  hardly 
recognise  you  even  now!' 

Giovanni  finished  dressing  and  came  out  at  last,  look 
ing  very  smart  in  Ugo's  clothes.  He  had  asked  no 
questions  about  Angela,  for  he  felt  tolerably  sure  that 
Ugo  had  never  known  her,  and  it  was  his  intention  to 
go  directly  from  the  hospital  to  Madame  Bernard's 
lodgings,  where  he  hoped  to  find  them  both  as  he  had 
left  them.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  make  vague 
and  roundabout  inquiries  just  then,  and  he  was  still  less 
inclined  to  confide  his  love  story  to  this  brother  whom 
he  hardly  felt  that  he  knew.  So  he  kept  his  own  counsel 
and  waited,  as  he  had  learned  to  do  in  five  years  of 
slavery. 

The  Minister  sent  back  a  line  by  Pica  to  say  that  Gio 
vanni  was  to  come  to  him  at  noon,  and  would  then 
receive  his  instructions  as  to  a  change  of  lodging,  if  any 
should  seem  advisable.  There  was  a  word  of  sympathy 
also  for  Ugo. 

In  less  than  an  hour  more,  Giovanni  had  helped  Pica 
to  carry  Ugo  down  to  the  Princess's  motor,  which  had 
appeared  punctually,  bringing  Doctor  Pieri,  and  the 
wounded  man  was  comfortably  placed  in  the  limousine 
with  the  surgeon  beside  him  and  Giovanni  sitting  oppo- 


206  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

site.    Ugo  introduced  his  brother  as  a  relation  who  had 
arrived  very  opportunely  that  morning. 

The  motor  buzzed  away  from  the  door,  and  reached 
the  Convent  of  Santa  Giovanna  d'  Aza  in  a  few  minutes. 
The  sky  had  cleared  after  the  rain  and  the  April  sun 
was  shining  gloriously. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SISTER  GIOVANNA  was  the  supervising  nurse  for  the 
week,  and  in  the  natural  course  of  her  duty  it  was  she 
who  went  to  the  telephone  when  Doctor  Fieri  called  up 
the  hospital  at  seven  o'clock.  In  a  few  words  he  ex 
plained  the  case  as  far  as  was  necessary,  and  begged  the 
Sister  to  have  a  good  room  ready  for  the  patient;  he 
believed  that  Number  Two  was  vacant. 

It  was,  and  the  wounded  man  could  have  it.  The 
Doctor  said  he  would  bring  him  in  a  motor  towards 
nine  o'clock. 

'The  patient's  name,  if  you  please/  said  Sister  Gio- 
vanna  in  a  businesslike  tone. 

'  Captain  Severi.  I  do  not  know  his  first  name. 
What  is  the  matter,  Sister?' 

The  nun  had  uttered  a  low  exclamation  of  surprise, 
which  Fieri  had  heard  distinctly. 

'Nothing/  she  answered,  controlling  her  voice.  'Is 
he  a  son  of  the  late  general  of  that  name  ? ' 

'  I  do  not  know,  Sister.  He  is  a  friend  of  the  Princess 
Chiaromonte.  Is  it  all  right?  I  am  busy.' 

'Yes/  answered  the  nun's  voice.     'It  is  all  right/ 

She  hung  up  the  receiver  and  went  to  give  the  neces 
sary  orders,  rather  whiter  about  the  lips  than  usual. 
The  fact  that  the  injured  officer  was  a  friend  of  her  aunt's 

207 


208  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

seemed  to  make  it  certain  that  he  was  one  of  the  brothers 
of  whom  Giovanni  had  often  spoken,  and  the  mere 
thought  that  she  was  to  see  him  in  an  hour  or  two  was 
disturbing.  For  a  moment  she  was  strongly  impelled 
to  beg  the  Mother  Superior  that  some  one  else  might 
take  her  place  during  the  morning ;  but  in  the  first  place 
it  seemed  cowardly  to  leave  her  post;  and  secondly,  in 
order  to  explain  her  position,  she  would  have  been 
obliged  to  tell  the  Mother  Superior  her  whole  story,  which 
she  had  never  done.  Monsignor  Saracinesca  knew  it, 
and  Madame  Bernard,  but  no  one  else  whom  she  ever 
saw  nowadays. 

Then  came  the  comforting  inward  suggestion  that 
Giovanni  would  have  wished  her  to  do  all  she  could  for 
his  brother,  and  this  at  once  made  a  great  difference. 
She  went  to  see  that  the  room  was  in  perfect  order, 
though  she  was  quite  sure  that  it  was,  and  she  sent  for 
the  orderlies  on  duty  and  told  them  to  be  especially 
careful  in  moving  a  patient  who  would  soon  be  brought, 
and  to  get  ready  a  certain  new  chair  which  was  especially 
constructed  for  carrying  persons  who  had  received  in 
juries  of  the  feet  only,  and  who  did  not  require  to  be 
transported  on  the  ordinary  stretcher,  which  always 
gives  a  patient  the  idea  that  his  case  is  a  serious  one. 

She  also  went  out  to  the  lodge,  to  warn  the  portress 
that  Captain  Severi  was  expected,  and  must  not  be  kept 
waiting  even  a  few  seconds  longer  than  was  necessary. 
The  excellent  Anna  looked  up  with  some  surprise,  for 
she  had  never  kept  any  one  waiting  without  good  cause, 
since  she  had  been  in  charge  of  the  gate,  but  she  bent  her 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  209 

head  obediently  and  said  nothing.  It  seems  to  be  a 
general  rule  with  religious  houses  that  no  one  is  ever  to 
wait  in  the  street  for  admittance;  the  barrier,  which  is 
often  impassable,  is  the  door  that  leads  inward  from  the 
vestibule. 

When  everything  was  prepared  for  Ugo's  reception, 
Sister  Giovanna  went  back  to  the  duties  which  kept  her 
constantly  occupied  in  the  morning  hours  and  often 
throughout  the  day.  She  was  personally  responsible  to 
the  house-surgeon  for  the  carrying  out  of  all  directions 
given  the  nurses,  as  he  was,  in  grave  cases,  to  the  operat 
ing  surgeon  or  visiting  physician.  It  was  her  business 
to  inspect  everything  connected  with  the  hospital,  from 
the  laundry,  the  sterilising  apparatus,  and  the  kitchen, 
to  the  dispensary,  where  she  was  expected  to  know  from 
day  to  day  what  supplies  were  on  hand  and  what  was 
needed.  She  was  ultimately  answerable  for  the  smallest 
irregularity  or  accident,  and  had  to  report  everything  to 
the  Mother  Superior  every  evening  after  Vespers  and 
before  supper.  During  her  week,  every  one  in  the 
establishment  came  to  her  for  all  matters  that  concerned 
the  hospital  and  the  nurses  on  duty  by  day  or  night; 
but  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  those  who  were  sent  out 
to  private  cases.  They  reported  themselves  and  gave 
an  account  of  their  work  to  the  Mother  Superior,  when 
ever  they  returned  to  the  Convent. 

The  supervising  nurse  for  the  week  did  not  sleep  in 
her  cell,  but  lay  down  on  a  pallet  bed  behind  a  curtain, 
in  her  office  on  the  first  floor,  close  to  the  dispensary, 
where  she  could  be  called  at  a  moment's  notice,  though 


210  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

it  rarely  happened  that  she  was  disturbed  between  ten 
o'clock  at  night  and  five  in  the  morning. 

The  Mother  Superior  had  introduced  the  system  soon 
after  she  had  taken  charge  of  the  Convent  hospital,  of 
which  the  management  now  differed  from  that  of  most 
similar  institutions  in  this  respect,  for  the  most  com 
petent  Sisters  took  turns  in  the  arduous  task  of  super 
vision,  from  week  to  week.  At  other  times  they  went 
to  private  cases  when  required,  or  acted  as  ordinary 
nurses.  Any  one  who  has  any  knowledge  of  hospitals 
managed  by  religious  orders  is  aware  that  no  two  of 
them  work  by  precisely  the  same  rules,  and  that  the  rules 
themselves  are  largely  the  result  of  the  Mother  Superior's 
own  experience,  modified  by  the  personal  theories  and 
practice  of  the  operating  surgeon  and  the  principal 
visiting  physician.  The  scale  of  everything  relating  to 
the  administration  is,  of  course,  very  small  compared 
with  that  of  any  public  hospital,  and  all  responsibility 
therefore  weighs  more  directly  on  the  doctors  and  nurses 
in  charge  at  any  given  moment  than  on  a  board  of  man 
agement  ;  in  other  words,  on  the  right  individuals  rather 
than  on  a  body. 

Princess  Chiaromonte  rose  early  and  drove  to  the 
Convent  in  a  cab,  intending  to  come  home  in  the  motor 
which  was  to  bring  Ugo  and  the  doctor.  She  rang,  was 
admitted,  and  asked  for  the  supervising  nurse.  The 
portress,  who  knew  her  by  sight,  at  once  led  her  to  the 
large  hall  already  mentioned,  and  rang  the  bell  which 
gave  warning  that  some  one  was  waiting  who  had  busi 
ness  in  the  hospital.  She  drew  one  of  the  chairs  for- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  211 

ward  for  the  Princess  and  went  back  to  the  lodge.  A 
moment  later  a  novice  opened  the  door  that  led  to  the 
wards,  and  the  visitor  repeated  her  request,  without 
mentioning  her  name. 

The  novice  bowed  and  disappeared,  and  several  min 
utes  passed  before  Sister  Giovanna  came.  She  had  last 
seen  her  aunt  ill  in  bed  and  flushed  with  fever,  but  the 
Princess  had  changed  too  little  in  five  years  not  to  be 
instantly  recognised  by  any  one  who  had  known  her  so 
recently. 

Both  women  made  a  movement  of  surprise,  and  the 
nun  stood  still  an  instant,  still  holding  the  handle  of  the 
door.  Of  the  two,  however,  she  was  the  first  to  regain 
her  composure.  Her  aunt  rose  with  alacrity  indeed, 
and  held  out  her  hand,  but  she  coloured  a  little  and 
laughed  with  perceptible  awkwardness.  She  had  long 
wished  to  see  her  niece,  but  the  meeting  had  come  too 
unexpectedly  to  be  pleasant. 

'  I  hope  you  have  felt  no  ill  effects  from  your  illness  ? ' 
Sister  Giovanna  spoke  calmly,  in  a  tone  of  civil  inquiry. 

'Oh,  none  at  all!'  answered  the  Princess.  'Thanks 
to  your  wonderful  nursing/  she  added,  with  rather  too 
much  eagerness.  'I  had  hoped  to  tell  you  before  now 
how  grateful  I  am;  but  though  I  have  been  here  more 
than  once,  you  were  never  here  when  I  came/ 

Sister  Giovanna  bent  her  head  slightly. 

'There  is  really  nothing  to  thank  me  for/  she  said. 
'The  novice  said  you  wished  to  see  me;  can  I  be  of  any 
service  to  you  ? ' 

The   elder   woman   inwardly   resented   the   tone   of 


212  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

superior  calm.  She  was  now  convinced  that  Sister 
Giovanna  was  no  other  than  her  niece  Angela,  though 
she  had  not  yet  given  any  direct  sign  of  recognition. 
She  was  not  quite  sure  of  being  able  to  meet  the  young 
eyes  steadily,  and  when  she  answered  she  fixed  her  own 
on  the  line  where  the  veil  was  drawn  tightly  across  the 
nun's  forehead.  In  this  way  she  could  not  fail  to  see 
any  quick  change  in  the  other's  features. 

'It  is  about  Captain  Severi/  she  said  very  distinctly, 
'  Ugo,  as  we  call  him  —  the  brother  of  that  poor  Gio 
vanni  who  was  murdered  by  savages  in  Africa/ 

She  saw  what  she  had  hoped  to  see  and  felt  that  she 
had  already  got  the  upper  hand,  for  the  nun's  face 
turned  the  colour  of  smouldering  wood  ashes  when  they 
are  a  greyish  white,  though  the  faint,  hot  glow  still 
rises  in  them  with  every  passing  breath  of  air  and  then 
fades  fitfully  away. 

'  Captain  Seven's  room  is  ready/  said  Sister  Giovanna 
steadily. 

'Yes,  of  course !'  The  Princess  nodded  as  she  spoke. 
'  It  is  not  that,  Sister.  He  is  a  great  friend  of  mine  and 
I  was  quite  devoted  to  his  unfortunate  brother,  so  I 
have  come  to  beg  that  he  may  have  the  very  best  care 
while  he  is  here/ 

'  You  need  not  have  any  anxiety.' 

Sister  Giovanna  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  straight  chair, 
with  her  hands  folded  on  her  knees.    The  Prin 
rested  one  elbow  on  the  table,  in  an  easy  attitude,  and 
glanced  at  her  once  or  twice  during  the  silence  that 
followed.    Each  was  wondering  whether  the  other  was 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  213 

going  to  admit  that  she  recognised  her,  and  each  was 
weighing  the  relative  advantages  of  remaining  on  the 
present  footing,  which  was  one  of  uncertainty  for  Sister 
Giovanna  and  of  armed  quiescence  on  the  Princess's 
part. 

'Thank  you/  said  the  latter,  after  a  long  time,  with  a 
bright  smile,  as  if  she  had  quite  understood  the  nun's 
answer.  'It  will  be  such  a  comfort  to  know  that  he  is 
being  well  cared  for,  poor  fellow.  I  believe  he  will  be 
here  in  a  few  minutes.7 

'We  are  expecting  him,'  answered  the  nun,  not  stirring. 

Another  long  silence  followed,  and  she  sat  so  per 
fectly  still  that  the  Princess  began  to  fidget,  looked  at 
the  tall  old  clock  in  the  corner  and  then  compared  her 
pretty  watch  with  it,  laid  her  olive-green  parasol  across 
the  table,  but  took  it  off  again  almost  immediately  and 
dropped  the  tip  to  the  floor.  The  Sister's  impassive 
stillness  seemed  meant  for  a  reproach  and  made  her 
nervous.  The  certainty  that  the  motionless  woman 
opposite  her  was  Angela,  calmly  declining  to  know  her, 
was  very  disagreeable.  She  tried  the  excuse  of  pre 
tending  in  her  thoughts  that  there  was  still  a  reasonable 
doubt  about  it,  but  she  could  no  longer  succeed ;  yet  to 
address  her  niece  by  her  baptismal  name  would  be  to 
acknowledge  herself  finally  beaten  in  the  contest  of  cool 
ness,  after  having  at  first  succeeded  in  making  her  ad 
versary  change  colour. 

The  ticking  of  the  clock  was  so  distinct  that  it  made 
an  echo  in  the  high  hall;  the  morning  sun  streamed 
across  the  pavement,  from  the  cloistered  garden  the 


214  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

chirping  of  a  few  sparrows  and  the  sharper  twitter  of  the 
house-swallow  that  had  already  nested  under  the  eaves 
sounded  very  clearly  through  the  closed  glass  door. 

The  Princess  could  not  bear  the  silence  any  longer,  and 
she  looked  at  Sister  Giovanna  with  a  rather  pinched  smile. 

'"My  dear  Angela/  she  said,  'there  is  really  no  reason 
why  we  should  keep  up  this  absurd  little  comedy  any 
longer,  is  there?' 

The  nun  did  not  betray  the  least  surprise  at  the 
sudden  question. 

'If  you  have  no  reason  for  it,  I  have  none/  she  an 
swered,  but  her  gaze  was  so  steady  that  the  Princess 
looked  away.  '  I  prefer  to  be  called  Sister  Giovanna, 
however/  she  added,  after  an  instant's  pause. 

The  Princess,  though  not  always  courageous,  was 
naturally  overbearing  and  rather  quarrelsome,  and  her 
temper  rose  viciously  as  soon  as  the  restraint  which  an 
artificial  situation  had  imposed  was  removed. 

'I  really  think  you  should  not  have  kept  me  in  doubt 
so  long/  she  said.  'After  playing  nurse  to  me  in  my 
own  house,  you  can  hardly  have  taken  me  for  another 
person.  But  as  for  you,  your  dress  has  changed  you  so 
completely,  and  you  look  so  much  older  than  any  one 
would  have  thought  possible,  that  you  need  not  be 
surprised  if  I  was  not  quite  sure  it  was  really  you  ! ' 

Her  niece  listened  unmoved.  A  trained  nurse,  even 
if  she  be  a  nun,  may  learn  a  good  deal  about  human 
nature  in  five  years,  and  Sister  Giovanna  was  naturally 
quick  to  perceive  and  slow  to  forget.  She  understood 
now,  much  better  than  the  Princess  supposed. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  215 

'I  am  not  at  all  surprised/  she  said,  almost  smiling, 
'and  it  cannot  possibly  matter/ 

The  older  woman  began  to  think  that  her  recollections 
of  what  she  thought  she  had  said  in  her  delirium  were 
nothing  more  than  the  record  of  a  dream,  but  the  fear 
of  having  betrayed  herself  still  haunted  her,  although 
four  months  had  passed,  and  the  present  opportunity  of 
setting  her  mind  at  rest  might  not  return.  Rather 
than  let  it  slip  away  she  would  be  bold,  if  not  brave. 

'And  besides/  she  said,  as  if  finishing  her  last  speech, 
'  I  believe  I  was  more  or  less  delirious  during  most  of  the 
time  that  you  were  with  me.  Was  I  not  ? ' 

Sister  Giovanna  was  sorely  tempted  to  speak  out. 
But  though  it  would  be  so  easy  to  humiliate  the  woman 
who  had  injured  her,  it  looked  too  much  like  vengeance; 
and  she  remembered  how  she  had  told  the  sick  woman 
that  she  forgave,  with  all  her  heart,  meaning  what  she 
said,  but  it  had  been  hard  to  keep  the  passion-flower  of 
forgiveness  from  fading  as  soon  as  it  had  opened. 

•  'You  were  rather  quiet  on  the  whole/  she  answered 
with  truth,  and  so  calmly  that  the  Princess  was  relieved. 
'  I  wish  all  my  patients  were  as  submissive/ 

'  Really  ?  How  delightful !  No  one  ever  said  I  was 
a  submissive  person,  I  am  sure ! ' 

'You  were  very  much  so.  And  now,  since  your  friend 
has  not  come  yet,  and  you  will  wish  to  wait  for  him,  I 
must  ask  you  to  let  me  leave  you,  for  I  am  on  duty  and 
must  not  stay  here  too  long.  Should  you  like  to  see  the 
Mother  Superior  ? ' 

Sister  Giovanna  rose  as  she  spoke,  for  though  she  was 


216  THE   WHITE  SISTER 

sure  of  herself  after  making  the  first  effort,  she  did  not 
mean  to  tell  an  untruth  if  her  aunt  asked  a  still  more 
direct  question;  she  was  well  aware,  too,  that  she  had 
turned  very  pale  at  the  first  mention  of  Giovanni,  and 
she  did  not  intend  to  expose  herself  to  any  further  sur 
prises  which  her  enemy  might  be  planning. 

The  Princess  was  disappointed  now,  and  was  not 
satisfied  with  having  so  greatly  diminished  her  own 
anxiety.  She  felt  that  she  had  come  into  contact  with 
a  force  which  she  could  not  hope  to  overcome,  because 
it  did  not  proceed  only  from  Angela's  own  strength  of 
character,  but  was  backed  by  a  power  that  was  real 
though  it  was  invisible.  It  is  hard  to  express  what  I 
mean,  but  those  will  understand  who  have  personally 
found  themselves  opposed  by  a  member  of  any  regular 
order  whom  they  wish  to  influence.  It  has  been  well 
said  that  there  is  no  such  obstacle  in  life  as  the  inert 
resistance  of  a  thoroughly  lazy  man;  but  in  certain  cir 
cumstances  that  is  far  inferior  to  the  silent  opposition  of 
a  conscientious  person  belonging  to  a  large  body  which 
declines,  on  grounds  of  belief  rather  than  of  logic,  to 
enter  into  any  argument.  That  was  what  Princess 
Chiaromonte  felt. 

She  rose  from  her  chair  a  moment  after  her  niece  had 
stood  up. 

'Thank  you,'  she  said.    'I  will  wait  here,  if  I  may.' 

'  You  are  welcome.' 

Sister  Giovanna  made  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head 
and  left  the  hall  at  once.  When  she  was  gone  her  aunt 
did  not  resume  her  seat,  but  walked  slowly  up  and  down, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  217 

and  twice,  as  she  reached  the  door  that  led  to  the  wards, 
she  stood  still  for  a  second  and  smiled.  It  was  all  very 
well  to  be  as  strong  as  Angela,  she  reflected,  and  to  have 
a  great  religious  order  behind  one,  supported  by  the 
whole  body  of  the  Roman  Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church ; 
and  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  have  so  much  character,  and 
such  a  beautiful,  grave  face,  and  solemn,  saintly  eyes; 
but  it  showed  weakness  to  turn  as  white  as  a  sheet  at  the 
mention  of  a  man's  name,  though  he  might  be  dead,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  note  the 
signs  of  inward  distress  when  the  grave  supervising  nurse 
came  face  to  face  with  the  brother  of  the  man  she  had 
loved. 

That  was  what  the  Princess  was  thinking  of  when  she 
heard  the  distant  gate-bell  tinkling,  and  stopped  once 
more  in  her  walk,  preparing  herself  to  receive  Ugo  Seven 
with  an  expression  of  cordiality  and  affectionate  con 
cern. 

The  portress  opened  the  door  into  the  hall  and  a  con 
fused  sound  of  voices  came  from  the  passage.  The 
Princess  started  slightly  and  then  smiled,  reflecting  that 
she  had  never  noticed  the  resemblance  between  Ugo's 
tone  and  poor  Giovanni's. 

Doctor  Pieri  entered  first,  tall,  grave,  fair-bearded,  and 
he  was  looking  back  to  be  sure  that  the  orderlies  were 
careful.  They  followed  him  closely,  bringing  Captain 
Ugo  in  a  chair  in  which  he  sat  upright  with  his  injured 
foot  lying  on  a  raised  rest  before  him  and  a  rug  from  the 
motor  car  over  his  knees.  He  wore  a  covert  coat  and  a 
grey  felt  hat. 


218  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  Princess  went  forward  with  a  bright  smile,  looking 
into  his  face. 

'I  have  seen  the  head  nurse/  she  said,  'and  you  are  to 
have  the  best  room  in  the  hospital,  and  all  sorts  of  extra 
care.' 

Ugo  said  something  as  the  orderlies  set  down  the 
chair,  but  almost  at  the  same  moment  the  Princess 
heard  another  voice.  It  was  hard  and  cold,  and  did 
not  match  the  words  it  spoke. 

'You  have  been  extremely  kind/  said  Giovanni  Severi. 

She  had  fairly  good  nerves,  and  had  been  in  a  very 
small  measure  prepared  for  the  surprise  by  having  heard 
him  talking  in  the  passage,  ^though  in  a  very  different 
tone;  but  she  started  and  gasped  audibly  as  she  looked 
up  and  met  his  resentful  eyes. 

1  Giovanni ! '  she  cried  in  amazement.  '  Is  it  you  ? 
Are  you  alive?' 

But  she  had  no  doubt  about  it,  in  spite  of  the  heavy 
beard  that  hid  the  lower  part  of  his  face. 

'Oh,  yes/  he  answered  rather  coldly.  'Quite  alive, 
thank  you.' 

She  held  out  her  hand  now,  but  it  was  shaking  when  he 
took  it.  Doctor  Pieri  looked  on  in  some  surprise,  but  said 
nothing.  One  of  the  orderlies  rang  the  bell  that  sum 
moned  the  supervising  nurse. 

'Where  have  you  been  all  these  years?'  asked  the 
Princess.  'Why  have  you  never  written  to  your 
friends?' 

'That  is  a  long  story/  Giovanni  answered,  in  the  same 
tone  as  before.  '  If  you  happen  to  be  on  friendly  terms 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  219 

with  the  Ministry,  you  will  be  doing  the  Government  a 
service  by  not  speaking  of  my  return  till  it  is  made 
public.' 

'  How  mysterious ! '  The  Princess  was  recovering 
from  her  surprise. 

Ugo  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  watching  their 
faces.  It  was  quite  clear  that  his  brother  disliked  the 
middle-aged  woman  of  the  world  now,  whatever  their 
relations  had  been  in  the  past,  and  from  her  behaviour 
when  she  had  recognised  him  it  looked  as  if  the  two  must 
have  once  been  very  intimate. 

'  What  are  we  waiting  for  ? '  asked  the  Captain  cheer 
fully,  in  order  to  break  off  the  conversation. 

'The  super  vising  nurse/  answered  Fieri.  'She  will  be 
here  directly.' 

'A  nun,  I  suppose/  observed  Giovanni  carelessly. 
'  Old  and  hideous  too,  no  doubt.  Poor  Ugo  ! ' 

'Not  so  much  to  be  pitied  as  you  think/  said  the 
Princess.  'She  is  still  young,  and  must  have  been  very 
pretty  !  She  is  worth  looking  at,  I  assure  you.' 

Her  own  astonishment  and  recent  emotion  were  al 
ready  forgotten  in  the  pleasure  of  looking  forward  to  the 
recognition  which  must  take  place  within  a  few  mo 
ments.  She  had  hated  her  niece  long  and  unrelentingly, 
and  she  had  never  forgiven  Giovanni  for  what  she  called 
in  her  heart  his  betrayal;  but  the  reckoning  was  to  be 
settled  in  full  at  last,  and  she  knew  that  if  Sister  Gio- 
vanna  could  choose,  she  would  rather  pay  it  with  her 
flesh  and  blood  than  meet  what  was  before  her  now. 

Giovanni  was  looking  towards  the  door  when  the  nun 


220  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

opened  it,  and  the  strong  morning  light  fell  full  on  her 
face  as  she  came  forward.  Naturally  enough,  her  eyes 
were  at  first  turned  downwards  towards  Ugo's  face,  for 
she  had  already  seen  the  Princess  and  Fieri  was  a  fa 
miliar  figure.  She  was  aware  that  a  bearded  officer  was 
standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  chair,  but  she  did  not 
look  at  him. 

Giovanni's  expression  changed  quickly;  at  first  he 
saw  only  a  strong  likeness  to  Angela,  a  striking  resem 
blance  that  made  him  wonder  whether  the  nun  could 
possibly  be  an  elder  sister  of  hers,  of  whom  he  had  never 
heard ;  but  by  quick  degrees  he  became  sure  that  it  was 
herself.  She  spoke  to  the  wounded  man. 

1  Shall  we  go  up  to  your  room  at  once?'  she  asked  in 
her  soft  voice,  bending  over  him. 

Before  Ugo  could  answer,  a  name  he  did  not  know 
rang  out,  in  a  tone  he  had  never  heard.  He  did  not 
recognise  his  brother's  voice,  it  was  so  full  of  passion 
and  joy,  mingled  with  amazement,  yet  trembling  with 
anxiety. 

1  Angela!' 

Sister  Giovanna  straightened  herself  with  a  spring  and 
stood  transfixed,  facing  Giovanni.  The  chair  was  be 
tween  them.  In  an  instant,  that  was  an  age  to  both, 
sharp  lines  furrowed  her  brow,  her  cheeks  grew  hollow, 
and  her  pale,  parted  lips  were  distorted  with  pain.  Her 
face  was  like  the  Virgin  Mother's,  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment;  she  threw  up  her  arms, 
stiff  and  straight,  as  a  man  who  is  shot  through  the  heart. 
One  loud  cry  then,  and  she  fell  backwards. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  221 

Fieri  was  in  time  and  caught  her  before  her  head 
struck  the  pavement ;  but  though  he  was  strong  and  she 
was  slightly  made,  the  impetus  of  her  fall  dragged  him 
down  upon  one  knee.  Giovanni  could  not  reach  her  at 
once,  for  the  hospital  chair  with  the  bars  by  which  it 
was  carried  was  between  them  and  the  foremost  of  the 
orderlies  stood  exactly  in  his  way.  He  almost  knocked 
the  man  over  as  he  dashed  forwards. 

The  Princess  was  already  bending  over  the  uncon 
scious  Sister,  with  every  appearance  of  profound  sym 
pathy;  she  was  trying  to  loosen  the  wimple  and  gorget 
that  confined  the  nun's  cheeks  and  throat  too  closely, 
but  the  fastenings  were  unfamiliar  and  she  could  not  find 
them.  Giovanni,  pale  and  determined,  pushed  her 
aside  as  he  stooped  to  lift  the  woman  he  loved.  Fieri 
helped  him,  and  the  Princess  rose  and  stepped  back  to 
look  on,  now  that  she  had  shown  her  willingness  to  be 
of  use.  Ugo  gazed  at  the  scene  with  wide,  astonished 
eyes,  turning  half  round  in  his  chair  and  grasping  its 
arms  to  hold  himself  in  the  position. 

'  Open  the  glass  door ! '  said  the  Doctor  to  the  nearest 
orderly. 

They  carried  Sister  Giovanna  into  the  cloistered  gar 
den,  towards  the  stone  seat  by  the  well,  where  the  three 
old  nuns  used  to  sit  in  the  afternoon.  Before  they 
reached  the  place,  she  opened  her  eyes  and  met  Gio 
vanni's,  already  haggard  with  fear  for  her,  but  brighten 
ing  wildly  as  her  consciousness  returned;  for  he  had 
believed  that  she  had  fallen  dead  before  him. 

Even  through  the    closed  glass    doors  the  Mother 


222  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Superior  had  heard  her  cry  and  known  her  voice,  for  the 
window  had  been  open  to  the  April  sunshine.  The 
Mother  could  be  swift  when  there  was  need,  and  she  was 
downstairs  and  at  the  well  almost  as  soon  as  the  two 
men  could  get  there,  walking  slowly  with  their  burden. 
Exerting  a  strength  that  amazed  them,  she  took  the 
young  nun  into  her  arms  and  sat  down  with  her,  and 
laid  the  drooping  head  tenderly  to  her  heart.  Her  own 
face  was  as  still  and  white  as  marble,  but  neither  Gio 
vanni  nor  Fieri  saw  her  eyes. 

'You  may  go/  she  said.    'I  will  take  care  of  her.1 

In  the  presence  of  the  strange  officer  she  would  not 
ask  the  Doctor  what  had  happened. 

'She  fainted  suddenly/  he  said. 

'  Yes.     I  understand.    Leave  her  to  me/ 

Fieri  saw  that  Giovanni  could  not  move  of  his  own  free 
will ;  so  he  passed  his  arm  through  the  young  man's  and 
whispered  in  his  ear  while  he  drew  him  away. 

'You  must  obey  for  the  present/  he  said.  'She  is  in 
no  danger.' 

For  he  had  understood  the  truth  at  once,  as  was  easy 
enough ;  and  Giovanni  went  with  him,  looking  back  again 
and  again  and  unable  to  speak,  not  yet  knowing  all. 

When  the  Princess  had  seen  the  Mother  Superior 
crossing  the  garden,  she  had  drawn  back  within  the 
door,  and  the  Doctor  shut  it  when  Giovanni  had  come  in. 
The  woman  of  the  world  had  believed  that  she  could 
still  face  the  man  after  what  she  had  done,  and  perhaps 
find  words  that  would  hurt  him ;  but  when  she  saw  his 
eyes,  she  was  frightened,  for  she  had  known  him  well. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  223 

When  he  went  straight  towards  her  she  made  one  step 
backwards,  in  bodily  fear  of  him;  but  he  spoke  quietly 
and  not  rudely. 

'  It  was  your  duty  to  warn  us  both/  he  said. 

That  was  all,  but  he  stood  looking  at  her,  and  her 
fright  grew;  for  men  who  live  long  in  the  wilderness 
gather  a  strength  that  may  inspire  terror  when  they  come 
back  to  the  world.  The  Princess  turned  from  him  with 
out  answering,  and  left  the  hall. 

One  of  the  orderlies  had  called  another  nurse  from 
within,  and  Ugo  was  taken  to  his  room,  still  surprised, 
but  already  understanding,  as  Fieri  did.  The  latter 
soon  took  his  leave,  the  nurse  followed  him  for  instruc 
tions,  and  the  brothers  were  alone  together. 

'When  I  left  her/  Giovanni  said,  'we  were  engaged  to 
be  married.  I  wrote  to  her  just  before  I  sailed,  but  she 
has  not  received  the  letter  yet.' 

'What  shall  you  do?'  asked  Ugo,  watching  him  with 
sympathy. 

'  Do  ?  Marry  her,  of  course !  Do  you  suppose  I  have 
changed  my  mind  ? ' 

'But  she  is  evidently  a  nun/  objected  Ugo.  'She 
must  have  taken  irrevocable  vows.  These  nurses  are 
not  like  Sisters  of  Charity,  I  believe,  who  make  their 
promise  for  a  year  only  and  then  are  free  during  one 
night,  to  decide  whether  they  will  renew  it.' 

Giovanni  Severi  laughed,  but  not  lightly,  nor  care 
lessly,  nor  scornfully.  It  was  the  short,  energetic 
laughter  of  a  determined  man  who  does  not  believe  any 
thing  impossible. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AFTER  a  long  time,  Sister  Giovanna  lifted  her  head  very 
slowly,  sat  up,  and  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  while 
the  Mother  Superior  still  kept  one  arm  round  her,  think 
ing  that  she  might  faint  again  at  any  moment.  But  she 
did  not. 

'Thank  you/  she  said,  with  difficulty.  'You  are  very 
good  to  me,  Mother.  I  think  I  can  walk  now.' 

'  Not  yet.' 

The  elder  woman's  hand  was  on  her  wrist,  keeping  her 
in  her  seat. 

'I  must  go  back  to  my  work,'  she  said,  but  not  much 
above  a  whisper. 

'Not  yet.  When  you  are  better,  you  must  come  to 
my  room  for  a  little  while  and  rest  there.' 

Sister  Giovanna  looked  old  then,  for  her  face  was  grey 
and  the  deep  lines  of  suffering  were  like  furrows  of  age; 
she  seemed  much  older  than  Mother  Veronica,  who  was 
over  forty.  A  minute  or  two  passed  and  she  made 
another  effort,  and  this  time  the  Mother  helped  her. 
She  was  weak  but  not  exactly  unsteady;  her  feet  were 
like  leaden  weights  that  she  had  to  lift  at  every  step. 

When  they  were  alone  in  the  small  room  and  the  door 
was  shut,  the  Mother  Superior  closed  the  window,  too ; 
for  the  cloister  was  very  resonant  and  voices  carried  far. 
She  made  Sister  Giovanna  sit  in  the  old  horse-hair  easy- 

224 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  225 

chair,  leaning  her  head  against  the  round  black  and  white 
worsted  cushion  that  was  hung  across  the  back  by  a 
cotton  cord.  She  herself  sat  in  the  chair  she  used  at  her 
writing-table. 

She  did  not  know  what  had  happened  in  the  hall,  but 
what  she  saw  told  her  that  the  Sister's  fainting  fit  had 
not  been  due  only  to  a  passing  physical  weakness.  She 
herself  seemed  to  be  suffering  when  she  spoke,  and  not 
one  of  all  the  many  Sisters  and  novices  who  had  come  to 
her  in  distress,  at  one  time  or  another,  had  ever  seen 
her  so  much  touched  by  pity,  so  humane,  forbearing,  and 
kind. 

'If  you  would  like  me  to  understand  what  has  hap 
pened,  my  dear  child,  you  can  trust  me,'  she  said.  'If 
you  would  rather  keep  your  secret,  tell  me  if  I  can  help 
you.' 

Sister  Giovanna  looked  at  her  gratefully  and  tried  to 
speak,  but  it  was  hard;  not  that  she  was  choking,  or 
near  to  shedding  tears,  but  her  lips  felt  stiff  and  cold,  like 
a  dying  man's,  and  would  not  form  words.  But  pres 
ently  they  came  at  intervals,  one  by  one,  though  not 
distinctly,  and  so  low  that  it  was  not  easy  to  hear  them. 

Yet  Mother  Veronica  understood.    Giovanni  Severi, 
the  man  Angela  had  loved,  the  man  who  had  been  called 
dead  for  five  years  —  he  had  come  back  from  death  — 
she  had  seen  him  with  his  brother  —  he  had  known  her. 

She  was  not  going  to  faint  again,  but  she  sank  forward, 
bending  almost  double,  her  hands  on  the  arms  of  the 
chair,  her  young  head  bowed  with  woe.  There  was 
something  awful  in  her  suffering,  now  that  she  was  silent. 

Q 


226  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  Mother  Superior  only  said  three  words,  but  her 
voice  broke  as  she  pronounced  the  last. 

'  My  poor  child  - 

Her  lips  were  livid,  but  she  ruled  the  rising  storm  and 
sat  quite  still,  her  fingers  twisted  together  and  straining 
on  her  knee.  If  Sister  Giovanna  had  looked  up,  she 
would  have  wondered  how  mere  sympathy  could  be  so 
deep  and  stirring.  But  she  could  not ;  her  own  struggle 
was  too  desperate.  Minutes  passed  before  she  spoke 
again,  and  then  there  was  a  change  in  her,  for  her  voice 
was  much  more  steady. 

'It  was  so  easy  to  be  good  when  he  was  dead.' 

She  had  been  happy  an  hour  ago,  yesterday,  last  week, 
working  and  waiting  for  the  blessed  end,  believing  that 
he  had  died  to  serve  his  country  and  that  God  would  let 
him  meet  her  in  heaven.  Why  had  he  come  back  now, 
too  late  for  earth,  but  a  lifetime  too  soon  for  heaven? 
It  had  been  so  easy  to  be  strong  and  brave  and  faithful 
for  his  sake,  when  he  was  dead.  It  was  little  enough 
that  she  had  said,  but  each  word  had  meant  a  page  of 
her  life.  Mother  Veronica  heard,  and  she  understood. 

'  Pray/  she  said,  after  a  long  time ;  and  her  voice  came 
as  from  very  far  away,  for  she  too  had  told  her  story  in 
that  one  syllable. 

Human  nature  turned  upon  her,  rebellious,  with  a 
rending  cry. 

1 1  cannot !  He  is  alive !  He  is  here !  Don't  you 
understand?  How  can  I  pray?  For  what?  That  he 
may  die  again  ?  God  of  mercy  !  And  if  not  that,  can  I 
pray  to  be  free  ?  Free  ?  Free  from  what  ?  Free  to  do 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  227 

what  ?  To  die  ?  Not  even  that !  Others  will  be  taken, 
but  I  shall  live  —  thirty,  forty,  fifty  years,  knowing  that 
he  is  alive  —  knowing  that  I  may  see  him  any  day  ! ' 

The  elder  woman's  white  fingers  twined  round  each 
other  more  desperately,  for  Sister  Giovanna's  face  was 
turned  full  to  her  now,  and  their  eyes  were  meeting;  the 
young  nun's  were  fierce  with  pain,  but  the  Mother's  were 
strangely  lustreless  and  dull. 

'  No,'  she  said,  mechanically  answering  the  last  words, 
'you  must  not  see  him.' 

'  Not  see  him  once  ? ' 

Sister  Giovanna  leaned  far  forwards,  grasping  the 
arms  of  the  easy-chair,  and  her  voice  came  thick  and 
hoarse.  Did  the  woman  with  the  marble  face  think  that 
she,  too,  was  made  of  stone  ?  Not  see  the  man  she  had 
loved,  who  had  been  suddenly,  violently  dead,  who  was 
alive  again,  and  had  come  back  to  her?  The  Mother 
could  not  be  in  earnest !  If  she  was,  why  did  she  not 
answer  now?  Why  was  she  sitting  there,  with  that 
strange  look,  silently  wringing  her  hands  ? 

Even  in  her  cruel  distress  Sister  Giovanna  felt  a  sort 
of  wonder.  Perhaps  the  Mother  had  not  meant  what 
she  said,  and  would  not  speak  lest  she  should  contradict 
herself.  The  mere  thought  was  a  hope;  whether  for 
good  or  evil  the  tortured  girl  knew  not,  but  it  loosed  her 
tongue. 

'  He  will  come  to  me !'  she  cried.  '  He  will,  I  tell  you  ! 
You  do  not  know  him  !  Did  you  hear  his  voice  as  I  did 
when  he  called  me  ?  Did  you  see  his  face  ?  Could  walls 
or  bars  keep  such  a  man  from  the  woman  he  loves  ?  I 


228  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

must  face  him  myself,  and  to  face  him  I  must  kill  some 
thing  in  me  —  cut  it  out,  tear  it  up  from  its  roots  —  I 
am  only  a  woman  after  all !  A  nun  can  be  a  woman 
still,  a  weak  woman,  who  has  loved  a  man  very,  very 
dearly ' 

1  Oh,  Angela,  hush !  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  my 
child,  my  child!' 

To  Sister  Giovanna's  unspeakable  amazement,  the 
unbending  nature  was  breaking  down,  the  marble  saint, 
with  the  still  white  face,  who  had  bidden  her  pray,  and 
never  see  Giovanni  again.  She  felt  herself  lifted  from 
her  seat  and  clasped  in  a  despairing  embrace;  she  felt 
the  small  nervous  frame  shaking  in  the  storm  of  an 
emotion  she  could  not  understand,  though  she  knew  it 
was  as  great  as  her  own  and  as  terrible  to  bear,  and  that 
the  heart  that  beat  against  hers  was  breaking,  too. 

Neither  shed  a  tear;  tears  would  have  been  heavenly 
refreshment,  but  they  would  not  come.  Another  mo 
ment  and  Angela  felt  herself  sinking  back  into  her  chair, 
and  when  she  opened  her  eyes  the  Mother  Superior  was 
at  the  table,  half  seated,  half  lying  across  it,  on  the  heaps 
of  papers  and  account-books,  and  her  outstretching 
hands  clasped  the  foot  of  the  old  crucifix  beside  the 
leaden  inkstand. 

1  Miserere  mei,  Domine!' 

The  voice  of  her  prayer  broke  the  stillness  like  a 
silver  bell.  Then  she  began  to  recite  the  greatest  of  the 
penitential  psalms. 

'Out  of  the  depths  have  I  cried  unto  Thee,  0  Lord: 
Lord,  hear  my  voice.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  229 

And  by  long  habit,  yet  with  some  dim  hope  of  peace, 
Sister  Giovanna  responded : 

'Let  Thine  ears  be  attentive  to  the  voice  of  my  sup 
plications.' 

They  said  it  to  the  end,  verse  answering  verse,  and  the 
prayer  of  the  King-Poet  stilled  the  throbbing  of  hurts 
too  deep  to  heal. 

Two  hours  after  she  had  fainted  in  the  hall,  Sister 
Giovanna  was  doing  her  work  in  the  hospital  again  as 
usual.  A  wonderful  amount  of  physical  resistance  can 
be  got  out  of  moral  conviction,  and  there  is  no  such 
merciful  shelter  for  mental  distress  as  a  uniform,  from 
the  full  dress  of  a  field-marshal  to  a  Sister  of  Charity's 
cornet. 

Of  the  persons  who  had  been  witnesses  of  the  scene, 
the  Doctor  and  Ugo  Severi  could  be  trusted,  and  Princess 
Chiaromonte  was  too  much  afraid  of  Giovanni  to  brew 
gossip  about  his  love-affair.  There  remained  the  two 
orderlies,  who  could  not  be  prevented  from  telling  the 
story  to  their  wives  and  friends  if  they  liked;  but  they 
were  trusty,  middle-aged  men  of  good  character;  they 
shared  the  affectionate  admiration  for  Sister  Giovanna 
which  almost  every  one  in  the  Convent  hospital  felt  for 
her,  and  they  would  be  the  very  last  to  say  a  word  to  her 
discredit.  These  circumstances  account  well  enough  for 
the  fact  that  the  story  did  not  get  into  the  newspapers 
at  the  time. 

Sister  Giovanna  went  back  to  her  work,  but  she  did 
not  go  near  Ugo  Severi,  and  she  gave  strict  orders  that 
his  brother,  if  he  came  to  see  him  again  during  the  day, 


230  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

was  to  be  accompanied  to  the  door  of  the  room  by  an 
orderly.  As  Ugo  had  swallowed  nothing  but  a  cup  of 
black  coffee  before  coming  to  the  hospital,  and  was  there 
fore  in  a  condition  to  take  ether,  Fieri  had  given  notice 
that  he  would  operate  on  the  injured  foot  at  two  o'clock. 
There  would  be  no  need  for  the  presence  of  the  supervis 
ing  nurse,  who  would  have  no  difficulty  in  keeping  out 
of  Giovanni's  way  for  the  present,  as  he  would  certainly 
not  be  allowed  to  roam  the  hospital  in  search  of  her. 

She  meant  to  meet  him  once  and  alone,  no  matter 
how  she  might  be  hindered,  and  nothing  that  the  Mother 
Superior  or  Monsignor  Saracinesca  could  say  should 
make  it  impossible.  She  knew  that  he  would  try  every 
means  of  seeing  her,  and  when  he  succeeded  in  making 
an  opportunity  which  she  could  accept,  she  would  take 
it,  come  what  might ;  till  then,  she  must  wait,  and  while 
she  was  waiting  she  would  find  the  strength  she  needed. 

That  was  her  plan,  and  it  was  simple  enough.  She 
might  be  mistaken  about  many  questions,  but  nothing 
could  make  that  seem  wrong  which  her  conscience  told 
her  was  right.  And  it  was  right  to  see  him  once;  she 
was  sure  of  it.  The  rest  was  confused  and  uncertain 
and  she  took  no  thought  what  she  should  say ;  she  only 
knew  she  must  make  him  understand,  though  it  would 
be  hard,  and  when  that  was  done,  she  would  not  see  him 
again  while  she  lived. 

She  meant  to  make  that  final  parting  a  certainty  by 
going  to  Rangoon  with  the  next  mission;  nothing 
should  change  her  determination  now. 

Her  feet  were  heavy  that  day,  and  her  voice  was  dull 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  231 

and  muffled  when  she  gave  her  orders ;  but  she  made  no 
mistakes.  Many  a  man  has  fought  more  stubbornly 
and  bravely  after  a  wound  and  a  fall  than  at  the  outset, 
and  few  men  could  tell  themselves  that  they  were  braver 
than  Sister  Giovanna  was  when  she  recovered  control  of 
her  actions  after  the  first  stunning  shock. 

She  stayed  in  her  office  as  much  of  the  time  as  possible. 
In  due  course  the  assistant  head-nurse  came  to  report 
that  Fieri  had  finished  his  work  and  that  Captain  Ugo 
had  recovered  well  from  the  ether;  his  brother  was  with 
him  and  would  stay  till  eight  o'clock,  the  hour  at  which 
all  visitors  were  required  to  leave  the  hospital  except  in 
cases  of  extreme  danger.  Sister  Giovanna  nodded  and 
wrote  a  few  lines  in  the  day-book. 

It  was  then  half-past  three.  Clearly  Giovanni's  plan 
was  to  spend  as  many  hours  as  possible  under  the  roof, 
in  the  hope  of  seeing  her;  for  though  the  operation  had 
been  a  long  one,  requiring  the  skill  of  a  great  surgeon  to 
perform  it  well,  Ugo  was  in  no  danger  from  it,  and  it 
might  be  supposed  that  a  man  who  had  just  come  back 
from  such  an  experience  as  Giovanni  had  lived  through 
would  wish  to  see  a  few  old  friends  on  the  first  day  of  his 
return,  or  would  be  obliged,  at  the  very  least,  to  attend 
to  some  necessary  business.  Sister  Giovanna  did  not 
know  that  his  return  was  being  purposely  kept  a  secret 
from  the  public  press,  and  that  he  was  far  safer  from 
reporters  while  he  stayed  in  the  Convent  hospital  than 
he  could  be  in  his  lodging. 

At  five  o'clock  the  door  of  her  office  opened,  and  to  her 
surprise  she  saw  Monsignor  Saracinesca  standing  before 


232  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

her,  hat  in  hand.  She  could  not  remember  that  she  had 
ever  seen  him  there  before,  but  it  was  an  office,  after  all, 
and  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  come  to  it  if 
he  had  business  with  her.  She  rose  to  receive  him.  He 
shut  the  door,  which  was  the  only  one,  bowed  gravely, 
and  took  one  of  the  two  spare  rush-bottomed  chairs  and 
seated  himself,  before  he  spoke. 

'The  Mother  Superior  sent  for  me/  he  said,  'and  I 
have  been  with  her  an  hour.  She  has  asked  me  to 
come  to  you.  Are  you  at  leisure  ? ' 

'  Unless  I  am  called.     I  am  on  duty/ 

He  noticed  the  muffled  tone  and  the  slowness  of  her 
speech.  She  sat  facing  him,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
plain  table,  her  open  report-book  before  her. 

'You  will  not  blame  the  Mother  Superior  for  sending 
me,  Sister.  She  is  in  the  deepest  distress  for  you.  You 
must  have  seen  that,  when  you  spoke  with  her  this 
morning/ 

'She  was  more  than  kind/ 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  sighed,  but  the  nun  did  not 
notice  it.  Now  that  she  knew  why  he  had  come,  she 
needed  all  her  strength  and  courage  again. 

He  went  on  quietly  with  his  short  explanation. 
Mother  Veronica  had  told  him  of  what  had  happened  in 
the  hall ;  he  had  known  the  rest  long  ago  from  Sister 
Giovanna  herself.  That  was  the  substance,  and  he 
wasted  no  words.  Then  he  paused,  and  she  knew  what 
was  coming  next,  for  he  would  speak  of  a  possible  meet 
ing  ;  but  how  he  would  regard  that  she  could  not  guess, 
and  she  waited  steadily  for  the  blow  if  it  was  to  be  one. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  233 

'The  Mother  Superior  thinks  that  you  should  not  see 
him/  he  said. 

1 1  know.    She  told  me  so.' 

'I  do  not  agree  with  her/  said  Monsignor  Saracinesca 
slowly. 

The  nun  turned  her  face  from  the  afternoon  light,  but 
said  nothing ;  with  the  greatest  sacrifice  of  her  life  before 
her  she  should  not  feel  joy  rising  like  the  dawn  in  her 
eyes,  at  the  mere  thought  of  seeing  the  man  whose  love 
she  must  renounce. 

'We  are  human/  said  the  churchman,  'and  our  vic 
tories  must  be  human,  to  be  worth  anything.  It  was  in 
His  humanity  that  Christ  suffered  and  overcame.  It 
is  not  victory  to  slink  from  the  fight  and  shut  oneself  up 
in  a  fortress  that  is  guarded  by  others.  Men  and  women 
must  be  good  men  and  women  in  this  world  if  they 
hope  to  be  saints  hereafter,  and  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
inactive  goodness/ 

Sister  Giovanna  looked  at  him  again,  but  still  she  did 
not  speak. 

'Though  I  am  a  priest/  continued  Monsignor  Sara 
cinesca,  '  I  am  a  man  of  the  world  in  the  sense  of  having 
belonged  to  it,  and  I  now  live  less  apart  from  it  than  I 
could  wish,  though  it  is  not  such  a  thoroughly  bad  place 
as  those  say  who  do  not  know  it.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  got 
rid  of  all  obligations  to  those  who  still  belong  to  it  when 
I  was  ordained,  and  I  do  not  think  that  when  you  took 
the  veil  in  a  working  order,  you  dropped  all  obligation 
to  the  persons  with  whom  you  had  lived  till  then.  In 
doing  so,  you  might  be  depriving  some  one  else  of  a  right.' 


234  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Sister  Giovanna  listened  to  this  exposition  in  silence 
and  tried  to  follow  it. 

'In  my  opinion/  the  prelate  went  on,  'Giovanni  Seven 
has  a  just  claim  to  see  you.  I  speak  under  authority 
and  I  may  be  wrong,  but  it  can  only  be  a  matter  of 
judgment  and  of  opinion,  and  since  your  Mother  Su 
perior  has  asked  for  mine,  I  give  it  as  well  as  I  can.  You 
are  not  a  cloistered  nun,  Sister.  There  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  not  receive  a  friend  whom  you  have  believed 
to  be  dead  for  years  and  who  has  unexpectedly  come 
back  to  life.' 

'Back  to  the  life  I  left  for  his  sake !' 

Again  she  looked  away  from  the  light,  but  her  face 
could  not  turn  whiter  than  it  was. 

'It  was  terribly  sudden/  said  Monsignor  Saracinesca, 
after  a  moment's  pause.  '  You  will  no  doubt  wait  a  few 
days  before  seeing  him,  till  you  feel  quite  able  to  face 
what  must  be  a  very  painful  interview.' 

'I  am  not  afraid  of  it  now.  I  was  weak  when  we 
recognised  each  other.  I  cannot  quite  remember  —  I 
heard  him  call  me  and  I  saw  his  eyes ' 

'And  you  must  have  fainted.  You  were  carried  out 
to  the  well  at  once/ 

'Who  carried  me?'  asked  the  nun  quickly. 

'  Doctor  Fieri  and  Giovanni  Severi.' 

She  made  a  slight  movement. 

'He  carried  me!' 

She  spoke  almost  unconsciously,  and  a  very  faint 
glow  rose  through  her  paleness,  as  when  white  glass  is 
warmed  an  instant  in  the  mouth  of  the  furnace  and  then 
drawn  back  and  quickly  cooled  again. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  235 

'Shall  I  talk  with  him  before  you  meet?'  asked  the 
churchman  presently. 

Sister  Giovanna  did  not  answer  at  once;  she  seemed 
to  be  thinking. 

1  You  know  better  than  any  one  what  my  life  has  been/ 
she  said  at  last.  'It  was  to  you  that  I  went  for  advice 
five  years  ago,  and  again  before  I  took  the  veil.  If  you 
had  thought  it  even  distantly  possible  that  he  might  be 
alive,  you  would  not  have  let  me  take  final  vows/ 

'Heaven  forbid!7  answered  Monsignor  Saracinesca 
very  earnestly. 

'Though  I  believed  him  dead,  you  knew  that  I  loved 
him  with  all  my  heart.7 

'  Yes.    As  dearly  as  when  you  had  last  seen  him  alive.7 

'  I  love  him  still.    Is  that  wrong  ? 7 

'No.7 

He  said  the  word  without  hesitation,  in  all  sincerity 
and  true  conviction,  but  the  nun  had  expected  another 
answer ;  a  quick  movement  of  the  head  showed  that  she 
was  surprised. 

'Are  you  sure?7  she  asked  in  a  low  and  wondering 
tone. 

'Yes,  because  I  am  sure  that  your  love  for  him  is  as 
innocent  as  it  ever  was.  The  religious  life  is  not  meant 
to  kill  human  affection.  Saint  Benedict  loved  his  sister 
Scholastica  devotedly;  Saint  Francis  was  probably 
more  sincerely  attached  to  Saint  Clare  than  to  any  living 
person.7 

'I  only  know  that  I  love  him  as  dearly  as  ever,7  said 
Sister  Giovanna. 


236  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  churchman  looked  at  her  keenly  for  a  moment, 
and  she  did  not  avoid  his  eyes. 

'Would  you  break  your  vows  for  him?'  he  asked, 
with  sudden  directness. 

The  nun  started  as  if  he  had  struck  her  and  half  rose 
from  her  chair. 

'Break  my  vows?'  she  cried,  her  eyes  blazing  with 
indignation. 

But  Monsignor  Saracinesca  only  nodded  and  laid  his 
thin  hand  flat  on  the  table,  towards  her.  She  sank  to 
her  seat  again. 

'Then  I  know  that,  although  you  may  love  him  more 
than  any  one  in  the  world,  you  do  not  love  him  better 
than  the  work  you  have  promised  to  do.' 

'Heaven  forbid !' 

He  had  used  the  very  same  expression  a  few  mo 
ments  earlier,  but  with  a  different  tone;  for  him  it 
had  been  an  asseveration  of  good  faith,  but  with  her  it 
was  more  like  a  prayer.  She  had  resented  his  question 
as  if  it  had  been  an  insult,  but  when  he  showed  how  much 
he  trusted  her,  she  began  to  distrust  herself.  She  would 
die  the  martyr's  death  rather  than  break  her  vows  in 
deed,  but  she  was  too  diffident  of  her  own  womanhood 
not  to  fear  a  fall  from  the  dignity  of  heartfelt  resignation 
to  the  inward  ignominy  of  an  earthly  regret.  Besides, 
'the  work  she  had  promised  to  do'  had  been  promised 
for  his  sake,  not  for  its  own ;  not  for  any  gain  to  her  soul, 
but  in  the  earnest  hope  that  it  might  profit  his,  by  God's 
mercy.  Since  he  was  not  dead,  but  alive,  the  chief 
purpose  of  it  died  with  his  return  to  life.  She  did  not 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  237 

love  the  work  she  had  promised  to  do  more  than  she 
loved  him ;  that  was  not  true,  and  never  had  been.  All 
had  been  for  him  —  her  vow,  her  work,  and  her  prayers. 
Heaven  forbid,  indeed,  that  she  should  now  set  him 
before  them ;  yet  it  was  hard  not  to  do  so  and  there  was 
only  one  possible  way ;  in  a  changed  sense  they  must  be 
given  for  him  still,  and  for  his  salvation,  else  she  could 
not  give  at  all. 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  had  watched  her  progress 
from  her  noviciate  to  her  present  position  of  respon 
sibility,  and  had  often  spoken  of  her  with  the  Mother 
Superior.  He  would  not  have  advised  every  nun  to  do 
what  he  thought  best  in  her  case.  There  was  not 
another  in  the  community,  except  the  Mother  herself, 
whom  he  would  have  trusted  so  fully.  But,  being  what 
she  was,  his  honourable  sense  of  justice  to  a  man  who  had 
suffered  much  and  must  suffer  more  impelled  him  to  act 
as  he  did.  As  he  himself  said,  it  was  a  matter  of  opinion 
and  judgment,  and  his  own  approved  the  course.  Those 
may  blame  him  who  think  otherwise,  but  no  one  can 
find  fault  with  Sister  Giovanna  for  following  his  advice ; 
she  had  a  right  to  believe  that  it  was  the  best,  and  as  for 
herself,  she  had  never  hesitated.  The  mere  suggestion 
that  she  should  not  see  Giovanni  at  least  once  and  alone 
looked  to  her  outrageous  and  contrary  to  all  sense,  as 
perhaps  it  was. 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  would  see  him  first  and  ar 
range  the  meeting.  He  thought  it  should  take  place  in 
the  cloistered  garden. 

1  Why  not  here,  in  my  office  ? '  asked  the  nun. 


238  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

But  the  churchman  objected.  If  the  two  were  to  talk 
together,  out  of  hearing,  they  must  not  be  out  of  sight. 
Never,  under  any  circumstances,  should  any  one  be  able 
to  say  that  there  had  been  any  secrecy  about  their  in 
terview.  He  himself  would  bring  Giovanni  to  the  place 
and  the  Mother  Superior  would  accompany  the  nun. 
He  and  the  Mother  would  withdraw  into  the  hall  and 
wait  until  Sister  Giovanna  dismissed  Severi.  The 
Mother  would  then  join  her,  and  Monsignor  Saracinesca 
would  go  away  with  Giovanni. 

In  order  to  forestall  evil  speaking  more  effectually, 
the  two  should  meet  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which 
the  nun's  week  of  duty  as  supervising  nurse  came  to  an 
end.  On  that  evening  she  would  go  away  to  nurse  a 
private  case,  and  before  that  patient  was  recovered, 
Ugo  Severi  would  certainly  be  well  enough  to  go 
home,  and  Giovanni's  daily  visits  to  the  hospital  would 
have  ceased.  It  would  thus  be  easy  to  prove  that 
after  their  only  interview,  in  what  might  be  called  a 
public  place,  they  had  not  been  within  the  same  walls  at 
the  same  time. 

No  one  who  has  watched  the  politics  of  the  so-called 
'socialist'  party  in  Rome  during  the  past  twenty  years 
will  wonder  at  these  precautions  nor  even  call  them 
exaggerated.  To  all  intents  and  purposes  the  'Vatican 
question'  has  ceased  to  exist;  the  Italian  Government 
may  fairly  be  said  to  be  at  peace  with  the  Church ;  the 
old  bitterness  may  survive  amongst  certain  prejudiced 
people,  chiefly  in  small  towns,  but  the  spirit  of  this  time 
is  a  spirit  of  good-will  and  mutual  forbearance,  and  the 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  239 

forces  that  were  once  so  fiercely  opposed  actually  work 
together  for  the  common  good  in  many  more  cases  than 
the  world  knows  of.  The  first  article  of  the  Italian 
Constitution  states  that  the  religion  of  the  Kingdom  is 
that  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church;  it  is,  and  it  will 
continue  to  be,  and  no  attempt  will  ever  be  made  on  the 
part  of  the  Monarchy  to  change  or  to  cancel  that  open 
ing  clause.  The  danger  to  which  the  Church  is  exposed 
lies  in  another  quarter,  and  threatens  not  only  the  Church, 
but  Christianity  in  all  its  forms;  not  only  Christianity, 
but  the  Monarchy;  and  not  the  Monarchy  only,  but  all 
constitutional  and  civilised  government.  It  is  anarchy  ; 
and  though  it  boasts  itself  to  be  socialism,  true  socialists 
disclaim  it  and  its  doings  and  all  its  opinions.  If  it  can 
be  so  far  honoured  as  to  be  counted  as  a  party,  it  is  the 
party  that  murdered  King  Humbert,  that  assassinated 
the  Empress  of  Austria,  and  that  would  sooner  or  later 
kill  the  Pope,  if  he  left  the  safe  refuge  which  some  per 
sons  still  insist  on  calling  his  prison. 

It  is  the  party  that  continually  spies  upon  all  religious 
and  charitable  institutions  in  Rome,  and  does  not  hesitate 
to  invent  stories  of  crime  outright  when  it  fails  to  detect 
one  of  those  little  flaws  which  its  press  magnifies  to 
stains  of  abomination. 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  understood  these  things  better 
than  the  others  concerned,  and  at  least  as  well  as  any 
one  in  Rome.  As  for  Giovanni,  he  had  known  him  a 
little  in  former  days  and  took  him  to  be  a  man  of  honour, 
who  would  submit  to  any  conditions  necessary  for  pro 
tecting  the  nun  from  calumny.  But  he  could  hardly 


240  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

believe  that  the  young  officer's  feelings  had  undergone 
no  change  in  five  years,  for  he  judged  men  as  most  men 
judge  each  other.  It  was  one  thing  to  fall  in  love  with  a 
charming  young  girl  in  her  first  season;  it  was  quite 
another  to  love  her  faithfully  for  five  years,  without  ever 
seeing  her  or  hearing  from  her,  and  to  feel  no  disap 
pointment  on  finding  her  as  much  changed  as  Angela 
was  now,  pale,  sorrow-worn,  and  of  no  particular  age. 
The  true  bloom  of  youth  is  something  real,  but  it  rarely 
lasts  more  than  two  years;  it  is  as  subtle  and  inde 
scribable  as  the  bloom  of  growing  roses,  which  is 
gone  within  an  hour  after  they  are  cut,  though  their 
beauty  may  be  preserved  for  many  days.  There  was 
the  nun's  habit,  too,  and  the  veil  and  wimple,  proclaim 
ing  another  and  a  greater  change  from  which  there  was  no 
return. 

Ippolito  Saracinesca  had  never  been  in  love,  even  in 
his  early  youth ;  it  was  no  wonder  that  he  was  mistaken 
in  such  a  man  as  Giovanni  Severi.  The  only  danger  he 
reckoned  with  lay  in  Sister  Giovanna's  own  heart,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  count  on  her  courage,  her  self-respect, 
and  most  of  all  on  her  profoundly  religious  nature.  No 
danger  is  ever  overcome  without  danger,  said  Mimos. 
In  the  case  of  such  a  woman  it  was  better,  for  her  sake, 
to  accept  such  risk  as  there  might  be  in  a  single  inter 
view  which  must  be  decisive  and  final,  than  to  let  her 
live  on  haunted  by  disturbing  memories  and  harassed  by 
regret. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IT  was  raining  when  Giovanni  and  Monsignor  Sara- 
cinesca  rang  at  the  door  of  the  Convent.  The  Mother 
Superior  had  ordered  two  rush-bottomed  chairs  to  be 
brought  out  of  the  hall  and  placed  under  the  shelter  of 
the  cloister  just  on  one  side  of  the  glass  door;  for  Sister 
Giovanna  was  to  receive  a  visit,  as  she  explained,  from 
an  officer  who  had  known  her  father  and  had  business 
with  her.  Such  things  had  happened  before  in  the 
community,  and  the  lay  sister  was  not  surprised.  She 
carried  the  chairs  out  and  set  them  in  what  she  con 
sidered  a  proper  position,  about  two  yards  apart  and 
both  facing  the  garden.  The  rain  fell  softly  and  steadily, 
the  sky  was  of  an  even  dove-grey,  and  the  smell  of  the 
damp  earth  and  the  early  spring  flowers  filled  the 
cloister. 

Giovanni  was  a  soldier  and  would  impose  his  military 
punctuality  upon  the  prelate,  who,  like  most  church 
men,  had  a  clearer  idea  of  eternity  than  of  definite  time. 
As  the  Convent  clock  was  striking,  therefore,  the  Mother 
Superior  and  Sister  Giovanna  came  down  the  narrow 
stairs,  for  they  had  been  together  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
though  they  had  scarcely  exchanged  half-a-dozen  words. 
They  walked  slowly  round  under  the  vaulted  cloister, 
the  Mother  on  the  right,  the  nun  on  the  left,  according 
to  the  rigid  custom,  and  they  had  just  turned  the  last 
R  241 


242  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

corner  and  were  in  sight  of  the  two  chairs  when  the  glass 
door  opened. 

Monsignor  Saracinesca's  voice  was  heard. 

'Remember  what  I  have  said.  I  trust  you,  and  you 
know  that  the  cloister  is  open  to  every  one.' 

'Yes/  Giovanni  answered,  as  both  appeared  on  the 
threshold. 

They  saw  the  two  nuns  already  near  and  made  a  few 
steps  to  meet  them.  Monsignor  Saracinesca  greeted 
the  Mother,  who  bent  her  head  as  she  answered  him; 
Giovanni  stood  still,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Angela's  face. 
But  she  looked  steadily  down  at  the  flagstones,  and  her 
hands  were  hidden  under  the  broad  scapular  of  white 
cloth  that  hung  straight  down  from  under  her  gorget  to 
her  feet. 

There  are  no  awkward  silences  when  churchmen  or 
nuns  meet,  still  less  if  the  meeting  takes  place  by  ap 
pointment,  for  each  knows  exactly  what  he  or  she  is 
expected  to  say  and  says  it,  deliberately  and  without 
hesitation.  In  less  than  a  minute  after  they  had  met, 
the  Mother  and  Monsignor  Saracinesca  entered  the  hall 
together  and  closed  the  glass  door  after  them.  The 
soldier  and  the  nun  were  face  to  face  at  last. 

As  soon  as  Giovanni  heard  the  door  shut  he  made  one 
step  forward  and  stretched  out  both  his  hands,  thinking 
to  take  hers.  She  made  no  movement,  but  raised  her 
eyes,  and  when  he  saw  them,  they  were  still  and  dull. 
Then  she  slowly  held  out  her  right  hand,  and  it  was  cold 
and  inert  when  he  took  it.  She  drew  back  at  once  and 
sat  down,  and  he  took  the  other  chair,  bringing  it  a  little 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  243 

nearer,  and  turning  it  so  that  he  could  see  her.  He  was 
cruelly  disappointed,  but  he  was  the  first  to  speak. 

'I  thought  you  were  glad  to  know  that  I  am  alive/ 
he  said  coldly,  'but  I  see  that  you  were  only  frightened 
the  other  day.  I  am  sorry  to  have  startled  you.' 

She  steadied  herself  before  answering. 

'Yes,  I  was  startled.  Your  letter  did  not  reach  me 
till  afterwards.' 

The  garden  was  whirling  before  her  as  if  she  were 
being  put  under  ether,  and  the  little  twisted  columns 
that  upheld  the  arches  of  the  cloister  chased  each  other 
furiously,  till  she  thought  she  was  going  to  fall  from  her 
chair.  She  could  not  hear  what  he  said  next,  for  a  surg 
ing  roar  filled  her  ears  as  when  the  surf  breaks  at  an  angle 
on  a  long  beach  and  sounds  one  deep,  uninterrupted 
note.  He  was  explaining  why  the  mail  steamer  had  not 
reached  Italy  several  days  before  him,  but  she  did  not 
understand;  she  only  knew  when  he  ceased  speaking. 

'  It  is  the  inevitable  —  always  the  inevitable/  she 
said,  making  a  desperate  effort  and  yet  not  saying  any 
thing  she  wished  to  say. 

But  her  tone  told  him  how  deeply  she  was  moved, 
and  his  fiery  energy  broke  out. 

'Nothing  is  inevitable!'  he  cried.  'There  is  nothing 
that  cannot  be  undone,  if  I  can  live  to  undo  it ! ' 

That  was  not  what  she  expected,  if  she  expected  any 
thing,  but  it  brought  back  her  controlling  self  that  had 
been  dazed  and  wandering  and  had  left  her  almost  help 
less.  She  started  and  turned  her  face  full  to  his,  but 
drawing- back  in  her  chair. 


244  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'What  do  you  mean?'    she  asked. 

'Angela!' 

The  appeal  of  love  was  in  his  voice,  as  he  bent  far 
forward,  but  she  raised  her  hand  in  warning. 

'No,  " Sister  Giovanna,"  please/  she  said,  checking 
him,  though  gently. 

He  felt  the  slight  rebuke,  and  remembered  that  the 
place  was  public  to  the  community. 

'It  was  not  by  chance  that  you  took  my  name  with 
the  veil/  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper.  'Did  you  love 
me  then?' 

'I  believed  that  you  had  been  dead  two  years/  an 
swered  the  nun  slowly. 

'  But  did  you  love  me  still,  when  I  was  dead  ? ' 

'Yes.' 

She  did  not  lower  her  voice,  for  she  was  not  ashamed, 
but  she  looked  down.  He  forgot  her  rebuke,  and  calli  ,1 
her  by  her  old  name  again,  that  had  meant  life  and  hope 
and  everything  to  him  through  years  of  captivity. 

'Angela !'  He  did  not  heed  her  gesture  now,  nor  the 
quick  word  she  spoke.  '  Yes,  I  will  call  you  Angela  — 
you  love  me  now ' 

She  checked  him  again,  with  more  energy. 

'  Hush  !    If  you  cannot  be  reasonable,  I  shall  go  away  ! ' 

'  Reasonable ! ' 

There  was  contempt  in  his  tone,  but  he  sat  upright 
again  and  said  no  more. 

'Listen  to  me/  said  Sister  Giovanna,  finding  some 
strength  in  the  small  advantage  she  had  just  gained. 
'I  have  not  let  you  come  here  in  order  to  torrnent  you 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  245 

or  cheat  you,  and  I  mean  to  tell  you  the  truth.  You 
have  a  right  to  know  it,  and  I  still  have  the  right  to  tell 
it,  because  there  is  nothing  in  it  of  which  I  am  ashamed. 
Will  you  hear  me  quietly,  whatever  I  say?' 

'Yes,  I  will.  But  I  cannot  promise  not  to  answer, 
when  you  have  done/ 

'  There  is  no  answer  to  what  I  am  going  to  say.  It  is 
to  be  final.7 

'We  shall  see/  said  Giovanni  gravely,  though  with 
no  conviction. 

But  the  nun  was  satisfied,  for  he  was  clearly  willing 
to  listen.  The  meeting  had  disturbed  her  peace  even 
more  than  she  had  expected,  but  she  had  done  her  best 
during  several  days  to  prepare  herself  for  it,  and  had 
found  strength  to  decide  what  she  must  say,  and  to  re 
peat  it  over  and  over  again  till  she  knew  it  by  heart. 

'You  were  reported  to  be  dead/  she  began  —  'killed 
with  the  rest  of  them.  You  had  your  share  in  the  great 
military  funeral,  and  I,  and  all  the  world,  believed  that 
you  were  buried  with  your  comrades.  Your  name  is 
engraved  with  theirs  upon  their  tomb,  in  the  roll  of 
honour,  as  that  of  a  man  who  perished  in  his  country's 
service.  I  went  there  with  Madame  Bernard  before  I 
began  my  noviciate,  and  I  went  again,  for  the  last  time, 
before  I  took  the  veil.  I  had  loved  you  living  and  I 
loved  you  dead.' 

Giovanni  moved  as  if  he  were  going  to  speak,  but  she 
would  not  let  him. 

'  No,  hear  me ! '  she  cried  anxiously.  '  I  offered  God 
my  life  and  my  strength  for  your  sake,  and  if  I  have  done 


246  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

any  good  here  in  five  years,  as  novice  and  nun,  it  has 
been  in  the  hope  that  it  might  be  accepted  for  you,  if 
your  soul  needed  it.  Though  you  may  not  believe  in 
such  things,  do  you  at  least  understand  me?' 

'  Indeed  I  do,  and  I  am  grateful  —  most  grateful.' 

She  was  a  little  disappointed  by  his  tone,  for  he  spoke 
with  an  evident  effort. 

'It  was  gladly  given/  she  said.  'But  now  you  have 
come  back  to  life  - 

She  hesitated.  With  all  her  courage  and  strength, 
she  could  not  quite  control  her  memory,  and  the  words 
she  had  prepared  so  carefully  were  suddenly  confused. 
Giovanni  completed  the  sentence  for  her  in  his  own  way. 

' 1  have  come  to  life  to  find  you  dead  for  me,  as  I  have 
been  dead  for  you.  Is  that  what  you  were  going  to  say  ? ' 

'She  was  still  hesitating. 

'Was  it  that?'  he  insisted. 

'No/  she  answered,  at  last.  'Not  dead  for  you  — 
alive  for  you.' 

He  would  have  caught  at  a  straw,  and  the  joy  came 
into  his  face  as  he  quickly  held  out  his  hand  to  her;  but 
she  would  not  take  it :  hers  were  both  hidden  under  her 
white  cloth  scapular  and  she  shrank  from  him.  The 
light  went  out  of  his  eyes. 

'I  might  have  known !'  he  said,  deeply  disappointed. 
'You  do  not  mean  it.  I  suppose  you  will  explain  that 
you  are  alive  to  pray  for  me ! ' 

'You  promised  to  listen  quietly,  whatever  I  might  say.' 

'Yes.'  He  controlled  himself.  'I  will/  he  added, 
after  a  moment.  'Go  on.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  247 

'I  am  not  changed/  said  Sister  Giovanna,  'but  my 
life  is.  That  is  what  I  meant  by  the  inevitable.  No 
person  can  undo  what  I  have  done '  —  Giovanni  moved 
impatiently  —  'no  power  can  loose  me  from  my  vows.' 

In  spite  of  himself,  the  man's  temper  broke  out. 

'You  are  mad/  he  answered  roughly ,  'or  else  you  do 
not  know  that  you  can  be  free.' 

'Hush  !'  cried  the  nun,  trying  once  more  to  check  him. 
'  Your  promise  —  remember  it ! ' 

'  I  break  it !  I  will  not  listen  meekly  to  such  folly ! 
Before  you  took  the  vow,  you  had  given  me  your  word, 
as  I  gave  you  mine,  that  we  would  be  man  and  wife,  and 
since  I  am  not  dead,  no  promise  or  oath  made  after  that 
is  binding !  I  know  that  you  love  me  still,  as  you  did 
then,  and  if  you  will  not  try  to  free  yourself,  then  by 
all  you  believe,  and  by  all  I  honour,  I  will  set  you 
free!' 

It  was  a  challenge  if  it  was  not  a  threat,  and  Sister 
Giovanna  defended  herself  as  she  could.  But  she  was 
painfully  conscious  that  something  in  her  responded 
with  a  thrill  to  the  cry  of  the  pursuer.  Nevertheless, 
she  answered  with  a  firm  refusal. 

'You  cannot  make  me  do  what  I  will  not/  she  said. 

'  I  can  and  I  will ! '  he  retorted  vehemently.  '  It  is 
monstrous  that  you  should  be  bound  by  a  promise  made 
in  ignorance,  under  a  wretched  mistake,  on  a  false  report 
that  I  was  dead  ! ' 

'We  were  not  even  formally  betrothed ' 

'We  loved  each  other/  interrupted  Giovanni,  'and  we 
had  told  each  other  so.  That  is  enough.  We  belong 


248  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

to  each  other  just  as  truly  as  if  we  were  man  and 
wife ' 

'Even  if  we  were/  said  the  nun,  interrupting  him  in 
her  turn,  '  if  I  had  taken  my  vows  in  the  belief  that  my 
husband  had  been  dead  for  years,  I  would  not  ask  to  be 
released!' 

He  stared  at  her,  his  temper  suddenly  chilled  in 
amazement. 

'But  if  it  were  a  mistake/  he  objected,  'if  the  Pope 
offered  you  a  dispensation,  would  you  refuse  it?' 

Sister  Giovanna  was  prepared,  for  she  had  thought 
of  that. 

'  If  you  had  given  a  man  your  word  of  honour  to  pay 
a  debt  you  owed  him,  would  you  break  your  promise  if 
you  suddenly  found  that  you  could  use  the  money  in 
another  way,  which  would  give  you  the  keenest  pleasure  ? ' 

1  That  is  quite  different !  How  can  you  ask  such  an 
absurd  question?' 

'It  is  not  absurd,  and  the  case  is  not  so  different  as 
you  think.  I  have  given  my  word  to  God  in  heaven, 
and  I  must  pay  my  debt.' 

Giovanni  was  indignant  again,  and  rebelled. 

'You  used  to  tell  me  that  your  God  was  just !' 

'  And  I  have  heard  you  say  that  your  only  god  was 
honour ! '  retorted  the  nun. 

' Yes ! '  he  answered  hotly.  'It  is !  Honour  teaches 
that  the  first  promise  given  must  be  fulfilled  before  all 
others ! ' 

'  I  have  been  taught  that  vows  made  to  God  must 
not  be  broken.1 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  249 

She  rose,  as  if  the  speech  were  final.  Though  they 
had  been  talking  only  a  few  minutes,  she  already  felt 
that  she  could  not  bear  much  more. 

'Surely  you  are  not  going  already  !'  he  cried,  starting 
to  his  feet. 

Sister  Giovanna  turned  so  that  she  was  face  to  face 
with  him. 

'What  is  there  left  to  say?'  she  asked,  with  a  great 
effort. 

'  Everything !  I  told  you  that  I  would  answer  when 
you  had  finished,  and  now  that  you  have  nothing  left 
to  say,  you  must  hear  me !  You  said  you  would ' 

'I  said  that  there  could  be  no  answer.'  Nevertheless 
she  waited,  motionless. 

'  But  there  is  !  The  answer  is  that  I  will  free  you  from 
the  slavery  to  which  you  have  sold  your  soul !  The 
answer  is,  I  love  you,  and  it  is  yourself  I  love,  the  woman 
you  are  now,  not  the  memory  of  your  shadow  from  long 
ago,  but  you,  you,  your  very  self ! ' 

Half  out  of  his  mind,  he  tried  to  seize  her  by  the  arm, 
to  draw  her  to  him ;  but  he  only  caught  her  sleeve,  and 
dropped  it  as  she  sprang  back  with  a  lightness  and  maiden 
grace  that  almost  drove  him  mad.  She  drew  herself  up, 
offended  and  hurt. 

'Remember  what  I  am,  and  where  you  are !' 

Giovanni's  manner  changed  so  suddenly  that  she 
would  have  been  suspicious,  if  she  had  not  been  too  much 
disturbed  to  reason.  She  fancied  that  she  still  controlled 
him. 

'You  are  right,'  he  said;  'I  beg  your  pardon.  Only 
tell  me  when  I  may  see  you  again/ 


LV>0  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'  Not  for  a  long  time  —  not  till  you  can  give  me  your 
word  that  you  will  control  yourself.  Till  then,  we  must 
say  good-bye.' 

He  was  so  quiet,  all  at  once,  that  it  was  easier  to  say 
the  word  than  she  had  expected. 

'No/  he  answered,  'not  good-bye,  for  even  if  you  will 
not  see  me,  I  shall  be  near  you.' 

'Near?    Where?' 

'I  am  living  in  my  brother's  rooms  at  the  Magazine. 
I  am  in  charge  till  he  gets  well.  I  asked  permission  to 
take  his  place  on  the  day  I  arrived,  from  the  Minister 
himself.' 

'  You  have  taken  his  place  ! '  She  could  not  keep  her 
anxiety  out  of  her  voice. 

'Yes,  and  I  hope  to  get  a  shot  at  the  fellow  who 
wounded  Ugo.  But  the  post  suits  me,  for  the  upper 
part  of  this  house  is  in  sight  of  my  windows.  If  you 
look  out  towards  the  river,  you  can  see  where  I  live.' 

He  spoke  so  gently  that  she  lingered  instead  of  leaving 
him  at  once,  as  she  had  meant  to  do. 

'And  besides,'  he  went  on,  in  the  same  tone,  'I  shall 
come  here  every  day  until  my  brother  can  go  home.  I 
may  meet  you  at  any  moment,  in  going  to  his  room. 
You  will  not  refuse  to  speak  to  me,  will  you  ? ' 

He  smiled.  He  seemed  quite  changed  within  a  few 
moments.  But  she  shook  her  head. 

'You  will  not  see  me  here  again,'  she  answered,  'for 
my  week's  turn  as  supervising  nurse  will  be  over  this 
evening  and  I  am  going  to  a  private  case/ 

'To-night?'   Giovanni  asked,  with  a  little  surprise. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  251 

'Yes,  to-night.' 

'  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  do  not  even  have  a  day's 
rest  after  being  on  duty  a  whole  week  ?  What  a  life ! 
But  they  must  give  you  a  few  hours,  surely !  What 
time  do  you  go  off  duty,  and  at  what  time  do  you  go  to 
your  new  patient?  I  suppose  they  send  for  you?' 

'Yes,  at  about  eight  o'clock.  That  is  the  usual  time, 
but  I  never  know  long  beforehand.  Arrangements  of 
that  sort  are  all  made  by  the  Mother  Superior.' 

It  did  not  seem  unnatural  that  he  should  ask  ques 
tions  about  her  occupation,  now  that  he  was  calmer,  nor 
could  she  think  it  wrong  to  answer  them.  Any  one 
might  have  listened  to  what  they  were  saying. 

'  I  daresay  you  do  not  even  know  where  you  are  going 
this  evening?'  Giovanni  said. 

She  thought  that  he  was  talking  only  to  keep  her  with 
him  a  little  longer.  Overstrained  as  she  had  been,  it 
was  a  relief  to  exchange  a  few  words  quietly  before 
parting  from  him. 

'It  is  true,'  she  answered,  after  a  moment's  thought. 
'I  daresay  the  Mother  Superior  mentioned  the  name  of 
the  family,  but  if  she  did  I  have  forgotten  it.  I  shall 
get  my  instructions  before  I  leave  the  house,  as  usual. 
I  only  know  that  it  is  a  new  case.' 

'Yes,'  Giovanni  said,  as  if  it  did  not  interest  him 
further.  'All  the  same,  it  is  a  shame  that  you  should  be 
made  to  work  so  hard !  Before  I  go,  tell  me  that  you 
have  forgiven  me  for  losing  my  head  just  now.  I  think 
you  have,  but  I  want  to  hear  you  say  so.  Will  you?' 

It  seemed  little  enough  to  forgive.     Sister  Giovanna 


252  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

felt  so  much  relieved  by  his  change  of  manner  that  she 
was  even  able  to  smile  faintly.  If  he  would  always  be 
as  gentle,  she  could  perhaps  ask  leave  to  see  him  again 
in  six  months.  Now  that  the  storm  was  over,  it  was  a 
pure  and  innocent  happiness  to  be  with  him. 

'You  will  not  do  it  again/  she  said  simply.  'Of 
course  I  forgive  you.' 

'Thank  you.  It  is  all  I  can  expect,  since  you  have 
told  me  that  I  was  asking  the  impossible.  You  see 
Madame  Bernard  sometimes,  do  you  not?' 

'Yes.     Almost  every  week.' 

'She  will  give  me  news  of  you.  I  suppose  I  must  not 
send  you  a  message  by  her.  That  would  be  against  the 
rules!' 

'The  message  might  be!'  Sister  Giovanna  actually 
smiled  again.  'But  if  it  is  not,  there  is  no  reason  why 
she  should  not  bring  me  a  greeting  from  you.' 

'But  not  a  letter?' 

'No.  I  would  not  take  it  from  her.  It  would  have 
to  be  given  to  the  Mother  Superior.  If  she  were  willing 
to  receive  it  at  all,  it  would  be  her  duty  to  read  it,  and 
she  would  judge  whether  it  should  be  given  to  me  or  not.' 

'  Is  that  the  rule  ? '  Giovanni  asked,  more  indifferently 
than  she  had  expected. 

'Yes.  It  is  the  rule  in  our  order.  If  it  were  not, 
who  could  prevent  any  one  from  writing  to  a  nun?' 

'I  was  not  finding  fault  with  it.  I  must  not  keep  you 
standing  here  any  longer.  If  you  will  not  sit  down  and 
talk  a  little  more,  I  had  better  be  going.' 

'Yes.     You  have  been  here  long  enough,  I  think.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  253 

He  did  not  press  her.  He  was  so  submissive  that  if 
he  had  begged  permission  to  stay  a  few  minutes  more 
she  would  have  consented,  and  she  wished  he  wrould, 
when  she  saw  him  holding  out  his  hand  to  say  good-bye ; 
but  she  was  too  well  pleased  at  having  dominated  his 
wild  temper  to  make  a  suggestion  which  might  betray 
weakness  in  herself. 

She  took  his  hand  and  was  a  little  surprised  to  find 
it  as  cold  as  hers  had  been  when  he  came;  but  his  face 
was  not  pale  —  she  forgot  that  five  years  of  Africa  had 
bronzed  it  too  much  for  paleness  —  and  he  was  very 
quiet  and  collected.  She  went  to  the  door  of  the  hall 
with  him  and  opened  it  before  he  could  do  so  for  himself. 

They  parted  almost  like  mere  acquaintances,  he  bow 
ing  on  the  step,  she  bending  her  head.  The  Mother 
Superior  and  Monsignor  Saracinesca  had  been  sitting  by 
the  table,  talking,  but  both  had  risen  and  come  forward 
as  soon  as  the  pair  appeared  outside  the  glass  door. 
It  all  passed  off  very  satisfactorily,  and  the  Mother 
Superior  gave  a  little  sigh  of  relief  when  the  churchman 
and  the  soldier  went  away  together,  leaving  her  and 
Sister  Giovanna  standing  in  the  hall.  She  felt  that 
Monsignor  Saracinesca  had  been  right,  after  all,  in 
approving  the  meeting,  and  that  she  had  been  mis 
taken  in  thinking  that  it  must  endanger  the  nun's  peace. 

She  said  nothing,  but  she  was  quietly  pleased,  and  a 
rare,  sweet  smile  softened  her  marble  features.  She 
asked  no  questions  about  what  had  passed,  being  quite 
sure  that  all  was  well,  and  that  if  there  had  ever  been 
anything  to  fear,  it  was  gone. 


L>:>l  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  prelate  and  Giovanni  walked  along  the  quiet 
street  in  silence  for  some  distance ;  then  Seven  stopped 
suddenly,  as  many  Italians  do  when  they  are  going  to 
say  something  important. 

'You  will  help  me,  I  am  sure/  he  said,  speaking  im 
petuously  from  the  first.  'Though  I  never  knew  you 
well  in  old  times,  I  always  felt  that  you  were  friendly. 
You  will  not  allow  her  to  ruin  both  our  lives,  will 
you?' 

'What  sort  of  help  do  you  want  from  me?'  asked  the 
tall  churchman,  bending  his  eyes  to  the  energetic  young 
face. 

'The  simplest  thing  in  the  world  ! '  Giovanni  answered. 
'  We  were  engaged  to  be  married  when  I  left  with  that  ill- 
fated  expedition.  She  thought  me  dead.  She  must  be 
released  from  her  vows  at  once !  That  is  all.' 

'It  is  out  of  the  question,'  answered  Monsignor 
Saracinesca,  with  supernal  calm. 

'Out  of  the  question?'  Giovanni  frowned  angrily. 
'Do  you  mean  that  it  cannot  be  done?  But  it  is  only 
common  justice !  She  is  as  much  my  wife  as  if  you  had 
married  us  and  I  had  left  her  at  the  altar  to  go  to  Africa  ! 
You  cannot  be  in  earnest ! ' 

'  I  am.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  no  ground  for  grant 
ing  a  dispensation.' 

'No  ground?'  cried  Seven  indignantly.  'We  loved 
each  other,  we  meant  to  marry  !  Is  that  no  reason  ? ' 

'No.  You  were  not  even  formally  betrothed,  cither 
before  your  parish  priest  or  the  mayor.  Without  a 
solemn  promise  in  the  proper  form  and  before  witnesses, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  255 

there  is  no  binding  engagement  to  marry.  That  is  not 
only  canonical  law,  but  Italian  common  law,  too.' 

'We  had  told  each  other/  Giovanni  objected.  'That 
was  enough.' 

'You  are  wrong/  answered  Monsignor  Saracinesca 
gently.  'The  Church  will  do  nothing  that  the  law  would 
not  do,  and  the  law  would  not  release  Sister  Giovanna, 
or  any  one  else,  from  a  legal  obligation  taken  under  the 
same  circumstances  as  the  religious  one  she  has  assumed.' 

'What  do  you  mean ? ' 

'This.  If,  instead  of  becoming  a  nun,  Angela  had 
married  another  man  after  you  were  lost,  Italian  law 
would  not  annul  the  marriage  in  order  that  she  might 
become  your  wife.' 

'  Of  course  not ! ' 

'Then  why  should  the  Church  annul  an  obligation 
which  is  quite  as  solemn  as  marriage?' 

Giovanni  thought  he  had  caught  the  churchman  in  a 
fallacy. 

'I  beg  your  pardon/  he  replied.  'I  was  taught  as  a 
boy  that  marriage  is  a  sacrament,  but  I  never  heard  that 
taking  the  veil  was  one ! ' 

'Quite  right,  in  principle.  In  reality,  it  is  considered, 
for  women,  the  equivalent  of  ordination,  and  therefore 
as  being  of  the  nature  of  a  sacrament.' 

'I  am  not  a  theologian,  to  discuss  equivalents/  re 
torted  Giovanni  roughly. 

'Very  true,  but  a  man  who  knows  nothing  of  mathe 
matics  may  safely  accept  the  statement  of  a  mathema 
tician  about  a  simple  problem.  That  is  not  the  point, 


256  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

however.  If  you  remember,  I  said  that  "  under  the 
same  circumstances"  the  Church  would  not  do  what 
the  law  would  not.  The  Church  considers  a  nun's  final 
vows  to  be  as  binding  under  its  regulations  as  the  law 
considers  that  any  civil  contract  is.  The  "circum 
stances"  are  therefore  exactly  similar/ 

Giovanni  was  no  match  for  his  cool  antagonist  in  an 
argument.  He  cut  the  discussion  short  by  a  direct 
question. 

'Is  it  in  the  Pope's  power  to  release  Sister  Giovanna 
from  her  vows,  or  not  ? ' 

'Yes.    It  is  —  in  principle.' 

'Then  put  your  principles  into  practice  and  make  him 
do  it ! '  cried  the  soldier  rudely. 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  was  unmoved  by  this  attack, 
which  he  answered  with  calm  dignity. 

'My  dear  Captain,'  he  said,  'in  the  first  place,  no  one 
can  "make"  the  Pope  do  things.  That  is  not  a  respect 
ful  way  of  speaking.' 

Giovanni  was  naturally  courteous  and  he  felt  that  he 
had  gone  too  far. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,'  he  answered.  'I  mean  no  dis 
respect  to  the  Pope,  though  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  do 
not  believe  in  much,  and  not  at  all  in  his  authority. 
What  I  ask  is  common  justice  and  your  help  as  a  friend. 
I  ask  you  to  go  to  him  and  lay  the  case  before  him 
fairly,  as  before  a  just  man,  which  I  heartily  believe 
him  to  be.  You  will  see  that  he  will  do  what  you  admit 
is  in  his  power  and  give  Sister  Giovanna  her  dispensa 
tion.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  257 

'If  you  and  she  had  been  married  before  your  disap 
pearance/  argued  the  churchman,  'His  Holiness  would 
assuredly  not  refuse.  If  you  had  been  solemnly  be 
trothed  before  your  parish  priest  as  well  as  legally 
promised  in  marriage  at  the  Capitol,  he  might  make  an 
exception,  though  a  civil  betrothal  is  valid  only  for  six 
months,  under  Italian  law.  But  there  was  no  marriage 
and  no  such  engagement.' 

Giovanni  found  himself  led  into  argument  again. 

'We  had  intended  to  bind  ourselves  formally/  he 
objected.  'I  have  heard  it  said  by  priests  that  every 
thing  depends  on  the  intention  and  that  without  it  the 
most  solemn  sacrament  is  an  empty  show !  Will  you 
doubt  our  intention  if  I  give  you  my  word  that  it  was 
mine,  and  if  Sister  Giovanna  assures  you  that  it  was 
hers?' 

'  Certainly  not !  The  Pope  would  not  doubt  you 
either,  I  am  sure.' 

'Then,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  just  and  right,  what 
is  the  obstacle  ?  If  you  admit  that  the  intention  is  the 
one  important  point,  and  that  it  existed,  what  ground 
have  you  left  ? ' 

'That  is  begging  the  question,  Captain.  It  is  true 
that  without  the  intention  a  sacrament  is  an  empty 
show,  but  the  intention  without  the  sacrament  is  of  no 
more  value  than  intention  without  performance  would 
be  in  law.  Less,  perhaps.  There  is  another  point,  how 
ever,  which  you  have  quite  overlooked.  If  a  request 
for  a  dispensation  were  even  to  be  considered,  it  ought 
to  come  from  Sister  Giovanna  herself.' 


258  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'And  you  will  never  allow  her  to  ask  for  her  freedom  !' 
cried  Giovanni  angrily.  'That  settles  it,  I  suppose! 
Oh,  the  tyranny  of  the  Church ! ' 

Monsignor  Saracinesca 's  calm  was  not  in  the  least 
disturbed  by  this  outbreak,  and  he  answered  with  un 
ruffled  dignity. 

'That  is  easily  said,  Captain.  You  have  just  been 
speaking  with  Sister  Giovanna  and  I  daresay  you  talked 
of  this.  What  was  her  answer  ?' 

'She  is  under  the  influence  of  her  surroundings,  of 
course!  What  could  I  expect?' 

But  the  churchman  had  a  right  to  a  more  direct  reply. 

'Did  she  refuse  to  listen  to  your  suggestion  that  she 
should  leave  her  order?'  he  asked. 

Giovanni  did  not  like  to  admit  the  fact,  and  paused 
a  moment  before  answering;  but  he  was  too  truthful 
to  quibble. 

'Yes,  she  did.' 

'What  reason  did  she  give  for  refusing?' 

'None!' 

'Did  she  merely  say,  "No,  I  will  not"  ?' 

'  You  are  cross-examining  me ! '  Giovanni  fancied 
that  he  had  a  right  to  be  offended. 

'No/  protested  Monsignor  Saracinesca,  'or  at  least 
not  with  the  intention  of  catching  you  in  your  own  words. 
You  made  an  unfair  assertion;  I  have  a  right  to  ask  a 
fair  question.  If  I  were  not  a  priest,  but  simply  Ippolito 
Saracinesca,  and  if  you  accused  me  or  my  family  of  un 
just  dealings,  you  would  be  glad  to  give  me  an  oppor 
tunity  of  defending  my  position,  as  man  to  man.  But 


THE   WHITE  SISTER  259 

because  I  am  a  priest  you  deny  me  that  right.  Are  you 
just?' 

'I  did  not  accuse  you  personally/  argued  the  younger 
man.  '  I  meant  that  the  Church  would  never  allow 
Sister  Giovanna  to  ask  for  her  freedom.' 

'The  greater  includes  the  less/  replied  the  other. 
'The  Church  is  my  family ,  it  includes  myself,  and  I 
claim  the  right  to  defend  it  against  an  unjust  accusation. 
Sister  Giovanna  is  as  free  to  ask  for  a  dispensation  as 
you  were  to  resign  from  the  army  when  you  were  ordered 
to  join  an  expedition  in  which  you  nearly  lost  your  life.' 

'  You  say  so  ! '    Severi  was  incredulous. 

'It  is  the  truth.  Sister  Giovanna  has  devoted  herself 
to  a  cause  in  which  she  too  may  risk  her  life.' 

'The  risk  a  nurse  runs  nowadays  is  not  great  P 

'  You  are  mistaken.  If  she  carries  out  her  intention, 
she  will  be  exposed  to  a  great  danger.' 

'What  intention?'  asked  Giovanni,  instantly  filled 
with  anxiety. 

'She  has  asked  permission  to  join  the  other  Sisters  of 
the  order  who  are  going  out  to  Rangoon  to  nurse  the 
lepers  there.' 

'  Lepers ! '  Seven's  features  were  convulsed  with 
horror.  'She,  nurse  lepers!  It  is  not  possible!  It  is 
certain  death.' 

'No,  it  is  not  certain  death,  by  any  means,  but  you 
will  admit  the  risk.' 

Giovanni  was  beside  himself  in  an  instant. 

'  She  shall  not  go ! '  he  cried  furiously.  '  You  shall 
not  make  her  kill  herself,  make  her  commit  suicide,  for 


260  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

your  glorification  —  that  what  you  call  your  Church 
may  add  another  martyr  to  its  death-roll !  You  shall 
not,  I  say !  Do  you  hear  me  ? '  He  grasped  the  prel 
ate's  arm  roughly.  'If  you  must  have  martyrs,  go 
yourselves !  Risk  your  own  lives  for  your  own  glory, 
instead  of  sacrificing  women  on  your  altars  —  women 
who  should  live  to  be  wives  and  mothers,  an  honour  to 
mankind ! ' 

'You  are  utterly  unjust ' 

'No,  I  am  human,  and  I  will  not  tolerate  your  human 
sacrifice !  I  am  a  man,  and  I  will  not  let  the  woman  I 
love  be  sent  to  a  horrible  death,  to  delight  your  Moloch 
of  a  God !' 

'Captain  Seven,  you  are  raving.' 

Giovanni's  fiery  rage  leapt  from  invective  to  sarcasm. 

'  Raving !  That  is  your  answer,  that  is  the  sum  of 
your  churchman's  argument !  A  man  who  will  not  let 
you  make  a  martyr  of  the  woman  he  adores  is  raving ! 
Do  you  find  that  in  Saint  Thomas  Aquinas,  or  in  Saint 
Augustine,  or  in  Saint  Jerome?'  He  dropped  his  voice 
and  suddenly  spoke  with  cold  deliberation.  'She  shall 
not  go.  I  swear  that  I  will  make  it  impossible.' 

Monsignor  Saracinesca  shook  his  head. 

'If  that  is  an  oath,'  he  said,  'it  is  a  foolish  one.  If  it 
is  a  threat,  it  is  unworthy  of  you.' 

'Take  it  how  you  will.    It  is  my  last  word.' 

'May  you  never  regret  it/  answered  the  prelate, 
lifting  his  three-cornered  hat;  for  Giovanni  was  saluting, 
with  the  evident  intention  of  leaving  him  at  once. 

So  they  parted. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  CARRIAGE  came  early  for  Sister  Giovanna  that  evening, 
and  the  footman  sent  in  a  message  by  the  portress.  The 
patient  was  worse,  he  said,  and  the  doctor  hoped  that 
the  nurse  would  come  as  soon  as  she  conveniently  could. 
She  came  down  in  less  than  five  minutes,  in  her  wide 
black  cloak,  carrying  her  little  black  bag  in  her  hand. 
It  was  raining  heavily  and  she  drew  the  hood  up  over 
her  head  before  she  left  the  threshold,  though  the  servant 
was  holding  up  a  large  umbrella. 

The  portress  had  asked  the  usual  questions  of  him 
as  soon  as  he  presented  himself,  but  Sister  Giovanna 
repeated  them.  Was  the  carriage  from  the  Villino 
Barini?  It  was.  To  take  the  nurse  who  was  wanted 
for  Baroness  Barini  ?  Yes ;  the  Signora  Baronessa  was 
worse,  and  that  was  why  the  carriage  had  come  half- 
an-hour  earlier.  The  door  of  the  brougham  was  shut 
with  a  sharp  snap,  the  footman  sprang  to  the  box  with 
more  than  an  average  flunkey's  agility,  and  the  nun  was 
driven  rapidly  away.  Knowing  that  the  house  she  was 
going  to  was  one  of  those  little  modern  villas  on  the  slope 
of  the  Janiculum  which  have  no  arched  entrance  and 
often  have  no  particular  shelter  at  the  front  door,  she 
did  not  take  the  trouble  to  push  her  hood  back,  as  she 
would  need  it  again  so  soon. 

In  about  ten  minutes  the  carriage  stopped,  the  foot- 

261 


l>iil>  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

man  jumped  down  with  his  open  umbrella  in  his  hand, 
and  let  her  into  the  house.  Before  she  could  ask  whether 
she  had  better  leave  her  cloak  in  the  hall,  the  man  was 
leading  the  way  upstairs;  it  was  rather  dark,  but  she 
felt  that  the  carpet  under  her  feet  was  thick  and  soft. 
She  followed  lightly,  and  a  moment  later  she  was  ad 
mitted  to  a  well-lighted  room  that  looked  like  a  man's 
library;  the  footman  disappeared  and  shut  the  door, 
and  the  latch  made  a  noise  as  if  the  key  were  being 
turned;  as  she  supposed  such  a  thing  to  be  out  of  the 
question,  however,  she  was  ashamed  to  go  and  try  the 
lock. 

She  thought  she  was  in  the  study  of  the  master  of  the 
house  and  that  some  one  would  come  for  her  at  once, 
and  she  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  room;  setting 
down  her  bag  on  a  chair,  she  pushed  the  hood  back  from 
her  head  carefully,  as  nuns  do,  in  order  not  to  discom 
pose  the  rather  complicated  arrangement  of  the  veil 
and  head-band. 

She  had  scarcely  done  this  when,  as  she  expected,  a 
door  at  the  end  of  the  room  was  opened.  But  it  was 
not  a  stranger  that  entered ;  to  her  unspeakable  amaze 
ment,  it  was  Giovanni  Severi.  In  a  flash  she  under 
stood  that  by  some  trick  she  had  been  brought  to  his 
brother's  dwelling.  She  was  alone  with  him  and  the 
door  was  locked  on  the  outside. 

She  laid  one  hand  on  the  back  of  the  nearest  chair,  to 
steady  herself,  wondering  whether  she  were  not  really 
lying  ill  in  her  bed  and  dreaming  in  the  delirium  of  a 
fever.  But  it  was  no  dream;  he  was  standing  before 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  263 

her,  looking  into  her  face,  and  his  own  was  stern  and  dark 
as  an  Arab's.  When  he  spoke  at  last,  his  voice  was  low 
and  determined. 

'Yes.     You  are  in  my  house/ 

Her  tongue  was  loosed,  with  a  cry  of  indignation. 

'  If  you  are  not  a  madman,  let  me  go  ! ' 

'I  am  not  mad/ 

His  eyes  terrified  her,  and  she  backed  away  from  him 
towards  the  locked  door.  She  almost  shrieked  for  fear. 

1  If  you  have  a  spark  of  human  feeling,  let  me  out ! ' 

'I  am  human,'  he  answered  grimly,  but  he  did  not 
move  to  follow  her. 

'  By  whatever  you  hold  sacred,  let  me  go  ! '  She  was 
wrenching  at  the  lock  in  despair  with  both  hands,  but 
sideways,  while  she  kept  her  eyes  on  his. 

'I  hold  you  sacred  —  nothing  else.' 

'Sacred!'  Her  anger  began  to  outbrave  her  terror 
now.  'Sacred,  and  you  have  trapped  me  by  a  vile 
trick!' 

'Yes/  he  answered,  'I  admit  that.' 

He  had  not  moved  again  and  there  was  a  window  near 
her.  She  sprang  to  it  and  thrust  the  curtains  aside, 
hoping  to  open  the  frame  before  he  could  stop  her.  But 
though  she  moved  the  fastenings  easily,  she  could  do  no 
more,  with  all  her  strength,  and  Giovanni  still  stood 
motionless,  watching  her. 

'You  cannot  open  that  window,'  he  said  quietly.  'If 
you  scream,  no  one  will  hear  you.  Do  you  think"! 
would  have  brought  you  to  a  place  where  you  could  get 
help  merely  by  crying  out  for  it?  The  risk  was  too 


264  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

great.  I  have  made  sure  of  being  alone  with  you  as  long 
as  I  choose.' 

The  nun  drew  herself  up  against  the  red  curtains. 

'I  did  not  know  that  you  were  a  coward/  she  said. 

'I  am  what  you  have  made  me,  brave,  cowardly, 
desperate  —  anything  you  choose  to  call  it !  But  such 
as  I  am,  you  must  hear  me  to  the  end  this  time,  for  you 
have  no  choice.' 

Sister  Giovanna  understood  that  there  was  no  escape 
and  she  stood  quite  still ;  but  he  saw  that  her  lips  moved 
a  little. 

'God  is  not  here,'  he  said,  in  a  hard  voice,  for  he  knew 
that  she  was  praying. 

'God  is  here,'  she  answered,  crossing  her  hands  on  her 
breast. 

He  came  a  step  nearer  and  leaned  on  the  back  of  a 
chair;  he  was  evidently  controlling  himself,  for  his 
movements  were  studiedly  deliberate,  though  his  voice 
was  beginning  to  shake  ominously. 

'If  God  is  with  you,  Angela,  then  He  shall  hear  that  I 
love  you  and  that  you  are  mine,  not  His !  He  shall 
listen  while  I  tell  you  that  I  will  not  give  you  up  to  be 
murdered  by  priests  for  His  glory !  Do  what  He  will, 
He  shall  not  have  you.  I  defy  Him  !' 

The  nun  shrank  against  the  curtain,  not  from  the  man, 
but  at  the  words. 

'At  least,  do  not  blaspheme  ! ' 

'I  must,  if  it  is  blasphemy  to  love  you.' 

'Yours  is  not  love.  Would  to  heaven  it  were,  as  I 
thought  it  was  to-day.  Love  is  gentle,  generous, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  265 

'Then  be  all  three  to  me;  for  you  love  me,  in  spite  of 
everything ! ' 

'You  have  taught  me  to  forget  that  I  ever  did/  she 
answered. 

'  Learn  to  remember  that  you  did,  to  realise  that  you 
do,  and  forget  only  that  I  have  used  a  trick  to  bring  you 
here  —  a  harmless  trick,  one  carriage  for  another,  my 
brother's  orderly  for  a  servant.  I  found  out  from  Ma 
dame  Bernard  where  you  were  going  and  I  sent  for  you 
before  the  hour.  You  are  as  safe  here  as  if  you  were 
praying  in  your  chapel;  in  a  few  minutes  the  carriage 
will  take  you  back,  you  will  say  you  got  into  the  wrong 
one  by  mistake,  which  is  quite  true,  and  the  right  one 
will  take  you  where  you  are  to  go ;  you  will  be  scarcely 
half-an-hour  late  and  no  one  will  ever  know  anything 
more  about  it.' 

Sister  Giovanna  had  listened  patiently  to  his  explana 
tion,  and  believed  what  he  said.  He  had  always  been 
impulsive  to  rashness,  but  now  that  her  first  surprise  had 
subsided  she  was  less  afraid.  He  had  evidently  yielded 
to  a  strong  temptation  with  the  idea  of  forcing  her  to 
listen  to  him,  and  in  reality,  if  she  had  understood  her 
self,  she  was  not  able  to  believe  that  he  would  hurt  her 
or  bring  any  disgrace  upon  her. 

'If  you  are  in  earnest,'  she  said,  when  he  had  finished, 
'then  let  me  go  at  once.' 

'Presently /he  answered.  'This  afternoon  you  made 
me  promise  to  hear  quietly  what  you  had  to  say,  and  I 
did  my  best.  I  could  not  help  your  being  frightened 
just  now,  I  suppose  —  after  all,  I  have  carried  you  off 


266  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

from  the  door  of  your  Convent,  and  I  meant  you  to 
understand  that  you  were  helpless,  and  must  listen.  I 
ought  to  have  put  it  differently,  but  I  am  not  clever  at 
such  things.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  hear  me.  After 
all,  that  is  what  you  asked  of  me  to-day.' 

He  had  begun  to  walk  up  and  down  before  her,  while 
he  was  speaking ;  but  he  did  not  come  near  her,  for  the 
chair  stood  between  her  and  the  line  along  which  he  was 
pacing  backwards  and  forwards.  Something  in  his  way 
of  speaking  reassured  her,  as  he  jerked  out  the  rather 
disconnected  sentences.  Women  often  make  the  mis 
take  of  thinking  that  when  we  men  begin  to  stumble 
away  from  the  straight  chalk-line  of  that  logic  in  which 
we  are  supposed  by  them  to  take  such  pride,  our  purpose 
is  wavering,  whereas  the  opposite  is  often  the  case.  Men 
capable  of  sudden,  direct,  and  strong  action  are  often 
poor  talkers,  particularly  when  they  are  just  going  to 
spring  or  strike.  A  little  hesitation  is  more  often  the 
sign  of  a  near  outbreak  than  of  any  inward  weakening. 
But  Sister  Giovanna  was  deceived. 

'I  shall  be  forced  to  listen,  if  you  insist/  she  said, 
moving  half  a  step  forward  from  the  curtain,  l  but  how 
can  I  trust  you,  while  I  am  your  prisoner?' 

'You  can  trust  me,  if  you  will  be  generous/  Giovanni 
answered. 

'I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  the  word/  replied 
the  nun  cautiously.  '  If  I  am  not  generous,  as  you  mean 
it,  what  then?' 

Severi  stopped  in  his  wralk ;  his  face  began  to  darken 
again,  and  his  voice  was  rough  and  hard. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  267 

'What  then?  Why  then,  remember  what  I  am  and 
where  you  are ! ' 

Sister  Giovanna  drew  back  again. 

1 1  would  rather  trust  in  God  than  trust  you  when  you 
speak  in  that  tone/  she  said. 

He  had  used  the  very  words  she  had  spoken  in  the 
cloister  when  he  had  tried  to  take  her  by  the  arm,  but 
they  had  a  very  different  meaning  now;  his  dangerous 
temper  was  rising  again  and  he  was  threatening  her. 
Yet  her  answer  produced  an  effect  she  was  far  from  ex 
pecting.  He  turned  to  the  writing-table  near  him, 
opened  one  of  the  drawers  and  took  out  an  army  revolver. 
Sister  Giovanna  watched  him.  If  he  was  only  going  to 
kill  her  she  was  not  afraid. 

'I  will  force  you  to  trust  me/  he  said,  quickly  examin 
ing  the  charge  as  he  came  towards  her. 

'  By  threatening  me  with  that  thing  ? '  she  asked  with 
contempt.  '  You  are  mistaken !' 

He  was  close  to  her,  but  he  offered  her  the  butt-end  of 
the  weapon. 

'No/  he  said,  'I  am  not  mistaken.  It  is  I  who  fear 
death,  as  long  as  you  are  alive,  and  here  it  is,  in  your 
hand.'  But  she  would  not  take  the  revolver  from  him. 
'You  will  not  take  it?  Well,  there  it  is.'  He  laid  it  on 
the  chair,  which  he  placed  beside  her.  'If  I  come  too 
near  you,  or  try  to  touch  even  your  sleeve,  you  can  use 
it.  The  law  will  acquit  you,  and  even  praise  you  for 
defending  yourself  in  need/ 

'There  must  be  no  need/  she  answered,  looking  at  him 
fixedly.  'Say  quickly  what  you  have  to  say.' 


268  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

\Vill  you  not  sit  down,  then?' 

1  Xo,  thank  you.     I  would  rather  not/ 

It  would  have  seemed  like  consenting  to  be  where  she 
was ;  and  besides,  the  revolver  lay  on  the  nearest  avail 
able  chair  and  she  would  not  touch  it,  much  less  hold 
it  in  her  hand,  if  she  sat  down  to  listen.  Giovanni 
leaned  back  against  the  heavy  table  at  some  distance 
from  her,  resting  his  hands  on  the  edge,  on  each  side  of 
him. 

'After  I  left  you  to-day/  he  began,  'I  had  a  long  talk 
with  Monsignor  Saracinesca  in  the  street.  I  asked  him 
questions  about  obtaining  a  dispensation  for  you.  He 
made  it  look  impossible,  of  course  —  that  was  to  be 
expected !  But  I  got  one  point  from  him,  which  is 
important.  He  made  it  quite  clear  to  me  that  the  re 
quest  to  be  released  from  your  vows  must  come  from 
you,  if  it  is  to  be  considered  at  all.  You  understand 
that,  do  you  not?' 

'Is  it  possible  that  you  yourself  do  not  yet  under 
stand?'  Sister  Giovanna  asked,  as  quietly  as  she  could. 
'  Did  I  not  tell  you  to-day  that  no  power  could  loose  me 
from  my  vows  ? ' 

'You  were  mistaken.  There  is  a  power  that  can,  and 
that  rests  with  the  Pope,  and  he  shall  exercise  it.' 

'I  will  not  ask  for  a  dispensation.  I  have  told  you 
that  it  is  an  impossibility ' 

'There  is  no  such  thing  as  impossibility  for  men  and 
women  who  love/  Giovanni  answered.  'Have  you  for 
gotten  the  last  words  you  said  to  me  before  I  sailed  for 
Africa?'  He  spoke  gently  now,  and  Sister  Giovanna 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  269 

turned  her  face  from  him.  'You  said,  "I  will  wait  for 
you  for  ever."  Do  you  remember  ? ' 

'Yes.    I  remember.' 

'Did  you  "wait  for  ever,"  Angela?' 

She  looked  at  him  again,  and  then  came  forward  a 
little,  drawn  by  an  impulse  she  could  not  resist. 

'  Did  I  love  another  man,  that  you  reproach  me  ? ' 
she  asked.  'Such  as  my  life  has  been,  have  I  lived  it  as 
a  woman  lives  who  has  forgotten?  I  know  I  have  not. 
Yes,  Giovanni,  I  have  waited,  but  as  one  waits  who 
hopes  to  meet  in  heaven  the  dear  one  who  is  dead  on 
earth.  Do  you  still  find  fault  with  me?  Would  you 
rather  have  had  me  go  back  to  the  world  and  to  society 
after  mourning  you  as  long  as  a  girl  of  nineteen  could 
mourn  for  a  man  to  whom  she  had  not  been  openly 
engaged  ?  Was  I  wrong  ?  If  you  had  really  been  dead 
and  could  have  seen  me,  would  you  have  wished  that  I 
were  living  differently  ? ' 

For  a  moment  he  was  moved  and  held  out  one  hand 
towards  her,  hoping  that  she  would  come  nearer. 

'No/  he  answered  —  'no,  dear ' 

'But  that  was  the  only  question/  she  said  earnestly, 
'and  you  have  answered  it !' 

She  would  not  take  his  hand  and  Giovanni  dropped 
his  own  with  a  gesture  of  disappointment. 

'No/  he  replied,  in  a  colder  tone,  'it  is  not  the  question, 
for  you  have  not  told  me  all  the  truth.  If  I  had  not 
been  gone  five  years,  if  I  had  come  back  the  day  before 
you  took  the  last  vows,  would  you  have  taken  them?' 

'No,  indeed!' 


270  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'  If  I  had  come  the  very  next  day  after,  would  you  not 
have  done  your  best  to  be  set  free  ? ' 

There  was  an  instant's  pause  before  she  spoke;  then 
the  answer  came,  clear  and  distinct. 

'No.' 

Seven  turned  from  her  with  an  impatient  movement 
of  his  compact  head,  and  tapped  the  carpeted  floor  with 
his  heel.  His  answer  broke  from  his  lips  harshly. 

'  You  never  loved  me ! ' 

She  would  have  done  wisely  if  she  had  been  silent 
then ;  but  she  could  not,  for  his  words  denied  the  truth 
that  had  ruled  her  life. 

'Better  than  I  knew/  she  said.  'Better  than  I  knew, 
even  then.' 

'Even  then?'  The  words  had  hope  in  them.  'And 
now  ? '  He  was  suddenly  breathless. 

'  Yes,  even  now ! '  The  tide  of  truth  lifted  her  from 
her  feet  and  swept  her  onward,  helpless.  '  Giovanni ! 
Giovanni !  Do  you  think  it  costs  me  nothing  to  keep 
my  word  with  God  ? ' 

But  he  had  been  disappointed  too  often  now,  and  he 
could  not  believe  at  once. 

'  It  costs  you  less  than  it  would  to  keep  your  faith  with 
me,'  he  answered. 

'It  is  not  true !    Indeed,  it  is  not  true  !' 

'Then  let  the  truth  win,  dear!  All  the  rest  is 
fable !' 

He  was  at  her  side  now.  She  had  tried  to  resist,  but 
not  long,  and  her  hand  was  in  his,  though  her  face  was 
turned  away. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  271 

'No —  no '  she  faltered,  but  he  would  not  let 

her  speak. 

'All  a  fable  of  sorrow  and  a  dream  of  parting,  sweet 
heart  !  And  now  we  have  waked  to  meet  again,  your 
hand  in  my  hand,  my  heart  to  your  heart  —  your  lips 
to  mine ' 

She  almost  shrieked  aloud  in  terror  then  and  threw 
herself  back  bodily,  as  from  the  edge  of  a  precipice. 
She  might  have  fallen  if  he  had  not  still  held  her  hand, 
and  as  she  recovered  herself  she  tried  to  withdraw  it. 
In  her  distress,  words  came  that  she  regretted  after 
wards. 

'  Do  you  think  that  only  you  are  human,  of  us  two  ? ' 
she  cried,  in  passionate  protest  against  passion  itself, 
against  him,  against  life,  but  still  twisting  her  wrist  in 
his  grip  and  trying  to  wrench  it  away.  '  For  the  love  of 
heaven,  Giovanni ' 

'No  —  for  love  of  me ' 

She  broke  from  him,  for  when  he  felt  that  he  was  hurt 
ing  her  his  fingers  relaxed.  But  she  could  not  stay  her 
own  words. 

'Yes,  I  love  you,'  she  cried  almost  fiercely,  as  she 
stepped  backwards.  'Right  or  wrong,  I  cannot  un 
make  myself,  and  as  for  lying  to  you,  I  will  not !  God 
is  my  witness  that  I  mean  to  love  you  living  as  I  have 
loved  you  dead,  without  one  thought  of  earth  or  one 
regret  for  what  might  have  been!  But,  oh,  may  God 
forgive  me,  too,  if  I  wish  that  we  were  side  by  side  in  one 
grave,  at  peace  for  ever  ! ' 

'Dead?    Why?    With  life  before  us ' 


272  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'No!'  She  interrupted  him  with  rising  energy. 
'  No,  Giovanni,  no  !  I  was  weak  for  a  moment,  but  I  am 
strong  again.  I  can  wait  for  you,  and  you  will  find 
strength  to  wait  for  me.  You  are  so  brave,  Giovanni, 
you  can  be  so  generous,  when  you  will !  You  will  wait, 
too!' 

'For  what?' 

'For  the  end  that  will  be  the  beginning,  for  God's 
great  To-morrow,  when  you  will  come  to  be  with  me  for 
ever  and  ever,  beyond  the  world,  and  all  parting  and  all 
pain ! ' 

There  was  a  deep  appeal  to  higher  things  in  her  words 
and  in  her  voice,  too,  but  it  did  not  touch  him ;  he  only 
knew  that  at  the  very  moment  when  she  had  seemed  to 
be  near  yielding,  the  terrible  conviction  of  her  soul  had 
come  once  more  between  him  and  her. 

'There  is  no  beyond/  he  answered,  chilled  and  sullen 
again.  'You  live  in  a  lying  legend;  your  life  is  a  fable 
and  your  sacrifice  is  a  crime.' 

The  cruel  words  struck  her  tormented  heart,  as  icy 
hailstones  bruise  the  half-clad  body  of  a  starving  child, 
out  in  the  storm. 

'You  hurt  me  very  much/  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

'Forgive  me!'  he  cried  quickly.  'I  did  not  mean  to. 
I  forget  that  you  believe  your  dreams,  for  I  cannot  live 
in  visions  as  you  do.  I  only  see  a  blind  force,  striking 
in  the  dark,  a  great  injustice  done  to  us  both  —  a  wrong 
I  will  undo,  come  what  may  !' 

'You  know  my  answer  to  that.  You  can  undo 
nothing.' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  273 

*I  am  not  answered  yet.  You  say  you  love  me  — 
prove  it!' 

'Only  my  life  can/  said  the  nun;  'only  our  two  lives 
can  prove  our  love,  for  we  can  live  for  each  other  still, 
perhaps  we  shall  be  allowed  to  die  for  each  other,  and  in 
each  other  we  shall  find  strength  to  resist ' 

'  Not  to  resist  love  itself,  Angela.' 

'No,  not  to  resist  all  that  is  good  and  true  in  love.' 

'I  cannot  see  what  you  see,'  he  answered.  'Nothing 
human  is  beyond  my  comprehension,  good  or  bad,  but 
you  cannot  make  a  monk  of  me,  still  less  a  saint  —  a 
Saint  Louis  of  Gonzaga,  who  was  too  modest  to  look  his 
own  mother  in  the  face !' 

He  laughed  roughly,  but  checked  himself  at  once, 
fearing  to  hurt  her  again. 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  look  of  gentle  authority. 

'In  spite  of  what  you  have  done  to-night/  she  said, 
'  you  are  such  a  manly  man,  that  you  can  be  the  man  you 
will.  Listen !  If  another  woman  tried  to  get  your  love, 
could  you  resist  her  ?  Would  you,  for  love  of  me  ? ' 

'She  would  have  small  chance,  you  know  that  well 
enough.' 

'There  is  another  woman  in  me,  Giovanni.  Resist 
her!' 

'I  do  not  understand.' 

'You  must  try!  There  is  another  woman  in  me,  or 
what  is  left  of  her,  and  she  is  quite  different  from  my 
real  self.  Resist  her  for  my  sake,  as  I  am  fighting  her 
with  all  my  strength.  It  was  she  who  tempted  you  to 
bring  me  here  by  a  trick  you  are  ashamed  of  already; 


274  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

it  was  she  that  made  me  weak,  just  now;  but  she  is  not 
the  woman  you  love,  she  is  not  Angela,  she  is  not  worthy 
of  you ;  and  as  for  me,  I  hate  her,  with  all  my  soul ! ' 

Severi  had  said  truly  that  he  could  not  understand, 
and  instead  of  responding  to  her  appeal,  he  turned  im 
patient  again. 

'You  choose  your  words  well  enough/  he  answered, 
'but  women's  fine  speeches  persuade  women,  not  men. 
No  man  was  ever  really  moved  to  change  his  mind  by 
a  woman's  eloquence,  though  we  will  risk  our  lives  for 
a  look  of  yours,  for  a  touch  —  for  a  kiss  ! ' 

Sister  Giovanna  sighed  and  turned  from  him.  The 
razor-edge  of  extremest  peril  was  passed,  for  the  words 
that  left  him  cold  and  unbelieving  had  brought  back 
conviction  to  her  soul.  She  could  live  for  him,  pray  for 
him,  die  for  him,  but  she  would  not  sin  for  him  nor  lift  a 
hand  to  loose  the  vows  that  bound  her  to  the  religious 
life.  Yet  she  did  not  see  that  she  was  slowly  driving 
him  to  a  state  of  temper  in  which  he  might  break  all 
barriers.  Very  good  women  rarely  understand  men  \\cll 
until  it  is  too  late,  because  men  very  rarely  make  any 
appeal  to  what  is  good  in  woman,  whereas  they  lie  in 
wait  for  all  her  weaknesses.  It  is  almost  a  proverbial 
truth  that  men  of  the  most  lawless  nature,  if  not  actually 
of  the  worst  character,  are  often  loved  by  saintly  women, 
perhaps  because  the  true  saint  sees  some  good  in  every 
one  and  believes  that  those  who  have  least  of  it  are  the 
ones  who  need  help  most.  Sister  Giovanna  was  not  a 
saint  yet,  but  she  was  winning  her  way  as  she  gained 
ground  in  the  struggle  that  had  been  forced  upon  her 


THE  WHITE   SISTER  275 

that  night,  so  cruelly  against  her  will,  and  having  got  the 
better  of  a  temptation,  her  charity  made  her  think  that 
Giovanni  Severi  was  farther  from  it  than  he  was.  Out 
ward  danger  was  near  at  hand,  just  when  inward  peril 
was  passed. 

As  if  he  were  weary  of  the  contest  of  words,  he  left 
the  writing-table,  sat  down  in  a  big  chair  farther  away, 
and  stared  at  the  pattern  in  the  carpet. 

'You  are  forcing  me  to  extremities,'  he  said,  after  a 
long  pause,  and  rather  slowly.  'Unless  you  consent  to 
appeal  to  the  Pope  for  your  freedom,  I  will  not  let  you 
leave  this  house.  You  are  in  my  power  here,  and  here 
you  shall  stay/ 

She  was  more  surprised  and  offended  than  indignant 
at  what  she  took  for  an  empty  threat,  and  she  was  not 
at  all  frightened.  Women  never  are,  when  one  expects 
them  to  be.  She  drew  her  long  cloak  round  her  with 
simple  dignity,  crossed  the  room  without  haste,  and 
stopped  before  the  locked  door,  turning  her  head  to 
speak  to  him. 

'It  is  time  for  me  to  go/  she  said  gravely.  'Open  the 
door  at  once,  please.' 

She  could  not  believe  that  he  would  refuse  to  obey 
her,  but  he  did  not  move ;  he  did  not  even  look  up,  as  he 
answered : 

'If  I  keep  you  a  prisoner,  there  will  be  a  search  for 
you.  You  may  stay  here  a  day,  a  week,  or  a  month,  but 
in  the  end  you  will  be  found  here,  in  my  rooms.' 

'And  set  free/  the  nun  answered,  from  the  door,  with 
some  contempt. 


276  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'Not  as  you  think.  You  will  be  expelled  from  your 
order  for  scandalous  behaviour  in  having  spent  a  night, 
or  a  week,  or  a  month  in  an  officer's  lodging.  What 
will  you  do  then  ? ' 

'If  such  a  thing  were  possible,  I  would  tell  the  truth 
and  I  should  be  believed/  But  her  anger  was  already 
awake. 

'The  thing  is  very  possible/  Giovanni  answered,  'and 
no  one  will  believe  you.  It  will  be  out  of  the  question 
for  you  to  go  back  to  your  Convent,  even  for  an  hour. 
Even  if  the  Mother  Superior  were  willing,  it  could  not  be 
done.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  you  would  have  been  sent 
to  a  prison  for  penitents  for  the  rest  of  your  life ;  nowa 
days  you  will  simply  be  turned  out  of  your  order  with 
public  disgrace,  the  papers  will  be  full  of  your  story, 
your  aunt  will  make  Rome  ring  with  it  - 

'What  do  you  mean  by  all  this?'  cried  the  Sister, 
breaking  out  at  last.  'Are  you  trying  to  frighten  me?' 

'  No.  I  wish  you  to  know  that  I  will  let  nothing  stand 
between  you  and  me  —  nothing,  absolutely  nothing.' 
He  repeated  the  word  with  cold  energy.  'When  it  is 
known  that  you  have  been  here  for  twenty-four  hours, 
you  will  be  forced  to  marry  me.  Nothing  else  can  save 
you  from  infamy.  Even  Madame  Bernard  will  not  dare 
to  give  you  shelter,  for  she  will  lose  every  pupil  she  has 
if  it  is  found  out  that  she  is  harbouring  a  nun  who  has 
broken  her  vows,  a  vulgar  bad  character  who  has  been 
caught  in  an  officer's  lodgings !  That  is  what  they  will 
call  you ! ' 

At  first  she  had  not  believed  that  he  was  in  earnest, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  277 

but  she  could  not  long  mistake  the  tone  of  a  man  de 
termined  to  risk  much  more  than  life  and  limb  for  his 
desperate  purpose.  Her  just  anger  leaped  up  like  a 
flame. 

*  Are  you  an  utter  scoundrel,  after  all  ?  Have  you  no 
honour  left  ?  Is  there  nothing  in  you  to  which  a  woman 
can  appeal  ?  You  talk  of  being  human  !  You  prate  of 
your  man's  nature !  And  in  the  same  breath  you 
threaten  an  innocent  girl  with  public  infamy,  if  she  will 
not  disgrace  herself  of  her  own  free  will !  Is  that  your 
love  ?  Did  I  give  you  mine  for  that  ?  Shame  on  you ! 
And  shame  on  me  for  being  so  deceived  ! ' 

Her  voice  rang  like  steel  and  the  thrusts  of  her  deadly 
reproach  pierced  deep.  He  was  on  his  feet,  in  the  im 
pulse  of  self-defence,  before  she  had  half  done,  trying  to 
silence  her  —  he  was  at  her  side,  calling  her  by  her  name, 
but  she  would  not  hear  him. 

'  No,  I  believed  in  you  ! '  she  went  on.  '  I  trusted  you  ! 
I  loved  you  —  but  I  have  loved  a  villain  and  believed  a 
liar,  and  I  am  a  prisoner  under  a  coward's  roof ! '  Be 
seeching,  he  tried  to  lay  his  hand  upon  her  sleeve;  she 
mistook  his  meaning.  'Take  care!'  she  cried,  and  sud 
denly  the  revolver  was  in  her  hand.  '  Take  care,  I  say  ! 
A  nun  is  only  a  woman  after  all !' 

He  threw  himself  in  front  of  her  in  an  instant,  his  arms 
wide  out,  and  as  the  muzzle  came  close  against  his  chest, 
he  gave  the  familiar  word  of  command  in  a  loud,  clear 
tone: 

Tire!' 

Their  eyes  met,  and  they  were  both  mad. 


278  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'  If  you  despise  me  for  loving  you  beyond  honour  and 
disgrace,  then  fire,  for  I  would  rather  die  by  your  hand 
than  live  without  you  !  I  am  ready  !  Pull  the  trigger  ! 
Let  the  end  be  here,  this  instant ! ' 

He  believed  that  she  would  do  it,  and  for  one  awful 
moment  she  had  felt  that  she  was  going  to  kill  him. 
Then  she  lowered  the  weapon  and  laid  it  on  the  chair 
beside  her  with  slow  deliberation,  though  her  hands 
shook  so  much  that  she  almost  dropped  it.  As  if  no 
longer  seeing  him,  she  turned  to  the  door,  folded  her 
hands  on  the  panel,  and  leaned  her  forehead  against 
them. 

He  heard  her  voice,  low  and  trembling : 

'  Forgive  us  our  sins,  as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass 
against  us!' 

His  own  hand  was  on  the  revolver  to  do  what  she  had 
refused  to  do.  As  when  the  cyclone  whirls  on  itself,  just 
beyond  the  still  storm-centre,  and  strikes  all  aback  the 
vessel  it  has  driven  before  it  for  hours,  so  the  man's 
passion  had  turned  to  destroy  him.  But  the  holy  words 
stayed  his  hand. 

'  Angela !    Forgive  me ! '  he  cried  in  agony. 

The  nun  heard  him,  raised  her  head  and  turned ;  his 
suffering  was  visible  and  appalling  to  see.  But  she 
found  speech  to  soothe  it. 

'  You  did  not  know  what  you  were  saying/ 

1 1  know  what  I  said/ 

He  could  hardly  speak. 

'You  did  not  mean  to  say  it,  when  you  brought  me 
here/  She  was  prompting  him  gently. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  279 


'  No.'  He  almost  whispered  the  one  word,  and  then  he 
regretted  it.  'I  hardly  know  what  I  meant  to  say/  he 
went  on  more  firmly,  'but  I  know  what  I  meant  to  ac 
complish.  That  is  the  truth,  such  as  it  is.  I  saw  this 
afternoon  that  I  should  never  persuade  you  to  ask  for 
your  freedom  unless  I  could  talk  to  you  alone  where  you 
must  hear  me ;  the  chance  came  unexpectedly  and  I  took 
it,  for  it  would  never  have  come  again.  I  had  no  other 
place,  I  had  not  thought  of  what  I  should  say,  but  I  was 
ready  to  risk  everything,  all  for  all  —  as  I  have  done  — 

'You  have,  indeed,'  the  nun  said  slowly,  while  he 
hesitated. 

'And  I  have  failed.  Forgive  me  if  you  can.  It  was 
for  love  of  you  and  for  your  sake.' 

'For  my  sake,  you  should  be  true  and  brave  and  kind,' 
answered  the  Sister.  '  But  you  ask  forgiveness,  and  I  for 
give  you,  and  I  will  try  to  forget,  too.  If  I  cannot  do  that, 
I  can  at  least  believe  that  you  were  mad,  for  no  man  in 
his  senses  would  think  of  doing  what  you  threatened  !  If 
you  wish  to  live  so  that  I  may  tell  God  in  my  prayers 
that  I  would  have  been  your  wife  if  I  could,  and  that  I 
hope  to  meet  you  in  heaven  —  then,  for  my  sake,  be  a 
man,  and  not  a  weakling  willing  to  stoop  to  the  most 
contemptible  villainy  to  cheat  a  woman.  Your  brother 
was  nearly  killed  in  doing  his  duty  here  and  you  have 
taken  his  place.  Make  it  your  true  calling,  as  I  have 
made  it  mine  to  nurse  the  sick.  At  any  moment,  either 
of  us  may  be  called  to  face  danger,  till  we  die;  we  can 
feel  that  we  are  living  the  same  life,  for  the  same  hope. 
Is  that  nothing  ? ' 


280  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'  The  same  life  ?    A  nun  and  a  soldier  ? ' 

'  Why  not,  if  we  risk  it  that  others  may  be  safe  ?  * 

'And  in  the  same  hope?  Ah  no,  Angela!  That  is 
where  it  all  breaks  down  ! ' 

'No.  You  will  live  to  believe  it  is  there  that  all 
begins.  Now  let  me  go.' 

Severi  shook  his  head  sadly;  she  was  so  unapproach 
ably  good,  he  thought  —  what  chance  had  a  mere  man 
like  himself  of  really  understanding  her  splendid,  saintly 
delusion  ? 

Pica  had  turned  the  key  on  the  outside  and  had  taken 
it  out,  obeying  his  orders;  but  Giovanni  had  another 
like  it  in  his  pocket  and  now  unlocked  and  opened  the 
door.  The  nun  went  out,  drawing  her  black  hood  quite 
over  her  head  so  that  it  concealed  her  face,  and  Giovanni 
followed  her  downstairs  and  held  an  umbrella  over  her 
while  she  got  into  the  carriage,  for  it  was  still  raining. 

'Good-night,'  he  said,  as  Pica  shut  the  door. 

He  did  not  hear  her  answer  and  the  brougham  drove 
away.  When  he  could  no  longer  see  the  lights,  he  went 
upstairs  again,  and  after  he  had  shut  the  door  he  stood 
a  long  time  just  where  she  had  stood  last.  The  revolver 
was  still  on  the  chair  under  the  bright  electric  light. 
He  fancied  that  the  peculiar  faint  odour  of  her  heavy 
cloth  cloak,  just  damped  by  the  few  drops  of  rain  that 
had  reached  it,  still  hung  in  the  air.  With  the  slightest 
effort  of  memory,  her  voice  came  back  to  his  ears,  now 
gentle,  now  gravely  reproachful,  but  at  last  ringing  like 
steel  on  steel  in  her  generous  anger.  She  had  been  present, 
in  that  room,  in  his  power,  during  more  than  twenty 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  281 

minutes,  and  now  she  was  gone  and  would  never  come 
again. 

He  had  done  the  most  rash,  inconsequent,  and  uselessly 
bad  deed  that  had  ever  suggested  itself  to  his  imagina 
tion,  and  now  that  all  was  over  he  wondered  how  he 
could  have  been  at  once  so  foolish,  so  brutal,  and  so 
daring.  Perhaps  five  years  of  slavery  in  Africa  had  un 
settled  his  mind;  he  had  heard  of  several  similar  cases 
and  his  own  might  be  another;  he  had  read  of  officers 
who  had  lost  all  sense  of  responsibility  after  months  of 
fighting  in  the  tropics,  perhaps  from  having  borne  re 
sponsibility  too  long  and  unshared,  who  had  come  back, 
after  doing  brave  and  honourable  work,  to  find  them 
selves  morally  crippled  for  civilised  life,  and  no  longer 
able  to  distinguish  right  from  wrong  or  truth  from  false 
hood. 

It  had  all  happened  quickly  but  illogically,  as  events 
follow  each  other  in  dreams,  from  the  moment  when  he 
had  gone  to  the  Convent  hospital  with  Monsignor 
Saracinesca  till  the  brougham  drove  away  in  the  dark, 
taking  Angela  back.  He  understood  for  the  first  time 
how  men  whom  every  one  supposed  to  be  of  average 
uprightness  could  commit  atrocious  crimes;  he  shud 
dered  to  think  what  must  have  happened  if  a  mere 
chance  had  not  changed  his  mood,  making  him  ask 
Angela's  forgiveness  and  prompting  him  to  let  her  go. 
She  had  touched  him,  that  was  all.  If  her  voice  had 
sounded  only  a  little  differently  at  the  great  moment, 
if  her  eyes  had  not  looked  at  him  with  just  that  expres 
sion,  if  her  attitude  had  been  a  shade  less  resolute,  what 


282  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

might  not  have  happened  ?  For  the  conviction  that  he 
could  force  her  to  be  his  wife  if  he  chose  to  keep  her  a 
prisoner  had  taken  possession  of  him  suddenly,  when 
all  his  arguments  had  failed.  It  had  come  with  irre 
sistible  strength:  the  simplicity  of  the  plan  had  been 
axiomatic,  its  immediate  execution  had  been  in  his 
power,  and  while  she  was  within  the  circle  of  his  senses, 
his  passion  had  been  elemental  and  overwhelming.  He 
tried  to  excuse  himself  with  that;  men  in  such  cases 
had  done  worse  things  by  far,  and  at  least  Angela  had 
been  safe  from  violence. 

But  his  own  words  accused  him;  he  had  threatened 
her,  he  had  talked  of  bringing  infamy  and  public  disgrace 
on  the  woman  he  loved,  in  order  to  force  her  to  marry 
him ;  he  had  thought  only  of  that  end  and  not  at  all  of 
the  vile  means;  it  all  took  shape  now,  and  looked  ugly 
enough.  He  felt  the  blood  surging  to  his  sunburnt 
forehead  for  shame,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  hi  his  life, 
and  the  sensation  was  painfully  humiliating. 

It  made  a  deep  impression  on  him  when  he  realised 
it.  Often  enough  he  had  said  that  honour  was  his  god, 
and  he  had  taken  pleasure  in  proving  that  he  who  makes 
the  rule  of  honour  the  law  of  his  life  must  of  necessity 
be  a  good  man,  incapable  of  any  falsehood  or  meanness 
or  cruelty,  and  therefore  truthful,  generous,  and  kind; 
in  other  words,  such  an  one  must  really  be  all  that  a 
good  Christian  aims  at  being.  The  religion  of  honour, 
Giovanni  used  to  say,  was  of  a  higher  nature  than  Chris 
tianity,  since  Christians  might  sin,  repent,  and  be  for 
given  again  and  again,  to  the  biblical  seventy  times  seven 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  283 

times;  but  a  man  who  did  one  dishonourable  deed  in 
his  whole  life  ceased  to  be  a  man  of  honour  for  ever. 
Having  that  certainty  before  his  eyes,  how  could  he 
ever  be  in  danger  of  a  fall  ? 

But  now  he  was  ashamed,  for  he  had  fallen;  he  had 
forsaken  his  deity  and  his  faith;  the  infamy  he  had 
threatened  to  bring  on  Angela  had  come  back  upon  him 
and  branded  him.  It  was  not  because  he  had  brought 
her  to  his  lodging  to  talk  with  him  alone,  for  he  saw 
nothing  dishonourable  in  that,  since  he  felt  sure  that 
no  harm  could  come  to  her  in  consequence.  The  dis 
honour  lay  in  having  thought  of  the  rest  afterwards, 
and  in  having  been  on  the  point  of  carrying  out  his 
threat.  If  he  had  kept  her  a  prisoner  only  a  few  hours, 
the  whole  train  of  results  would  most  probably  have 
followed;  if  he  had  not  let  her  go  till  the  next  day, 
they  would  have  been  inevitable  and  irretrievable. 
Nothing  could  have  saved  Sister  Giovanna  then. 

As  he  saw  the  truth  more  and  more  clearly,  shame 
turned  into  something  more  like  horror,  and  as  different 
from  mere  humiliation  as  remorse  is  from  repentance. 
Thinking  over  what  he  had  done,  he  attempted  to  put 
himself  in  Angela's  place,  and  to  see,  or  guess,  how  he 
would  behave  if  some  stronger  being  tried  to  force  him 
to  choose  between  public  ignominy  and  breaking  a  solemn 
oath.  Moreover,  he  endeavoured  to  imagine  what  the 
nun,  as  distinguished  from  the  mere  woman,  must  have 
felt  when  she  found  herself  trapped  in  a  man's  rooms 
and  locked  in.  Even  his  unbelief  instinctively  placed 
Sister  Giovanna  higher  in  the  scale  of  goodness  than 


284  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Angela  Chiaromonte ;  he  was  an  unbeliever,  but  not  a 
scoffer,  for  somehow  the  rule  of  honour  influenced  him 
there,  too.  Nuns  could  r,eally  be  saints,  and  were  often 
holy  women,  and  the  fact  that  they  were  mistaken,  in 
his  opinion,  only  made  their  sacrifice  more  complete, 
since  they  were  to  receive  no  reward  where  they  hoped 
for  an  eternal  one ;  and  he  no  longer  doubted  that  Sister 
Giovanna  was  as  truly  good  in  every  sense  as  any  of 
them.  What  must  she  not  have  felt,  less  than  an  hour 
ago,  when  he  had  entered  the  room,  telling  her  roughly 
that  she  was  in  his  power,  beyond  all  reach  of  belp? 
Yet  he  had  cherished  the  illusion  that  he  was  an  hon 
ourable  man,  who  would  never  take  cruel  advantage 
of  any  woman,  still  less  of  an  innocent  girl,  far  less,  still, 
of  a  nursing  nun,  whose  dress  alone  would  have  protected 
her  from  insult  amongst  any  men  but  criminals. 

In  his  self-contempt  he  hung  his  head  as  he  sat  alone 
by  the  table,  half-fancying  that  if  he  raised  his  eyes  he 
would  see  his  own  image  accusing  him.  Sister  Giovanna 
herself  would  have  been  surprised  if  she  could  have  known 
how  complete  her  victory  had  been.  His  god  had  for 
saken  him  in  his  great  need,  and  though  he  could  not 
believe  in  hers,  he  was  asking  himself  what  inward 
strength  that  must  be  which  could  make  a  woman  in 
extremest  danger  so  gentle  and  yet  so  strong,  so  quick 
to  righteous  anger  and  yet  so  ready  to  forgive  what  he 
could  never  pardon  in  himself. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SISTER  GIOVANNA'S  nerves  were  good.  The  modern 
trained  nurse  is  a  machine,  and  a  wonderfully  good  one 
on  the  whole;  when  she  is  exceptionally  endowed  for 
her  work  she  is  quite  beyond  praise.  People  who  still 
fancy  that  Rome  is  a  mediaeval  town,  several  centuries 
behind  other  great  capitals  in  the  application  of  useful 
discoveries  and  scientific  systems,  would  be  surprised 
if  they  knew  the  truth  and  could  see  what  is  done  there, 
and  not  as  an  exception,  but  as  the  general  rule.  The 
common  English  and  American  belief,  that  Roman  nuns 
nurse  the  sick  chiefly  by  prayer  and  the  precepts  of  the 
school  of  Salerno,  is  old-fashioned  nonsense;  the  Pope's 
own  authority  requires  that  they  should  attend  an 
extremely  modern  training-school  where  they  receive 
a  long  course  of  instruction,  probably  as  good  as  any  in 
the  world,  from  eminent  surgeons  and  physicians. 

One  of  the  first  results  of  proper  training  in  anything 
is  an  increased  steadiness  of  the  nerves,  which  quite 
naturally  brings  with  it  the  ability  to  bear  a  long  strain 
better  than  ordinary  persons  can,  and  a  certain  habitual 
coolness  that  is  like  an  armour  against  surprises  of  all 
kinds.  One  reason  why  Anglo-Saxons  are  generally 
cooler  than  people  of  other  nations  is  that  they  are  usually 
in  better  physical  condition  than  other  men. 

285 


286  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

A  digression  is  always  a  liberty  which  the  story-teller 
takes  with  his  readers,  and  those  of  us  have  the  fewest 
readers  who  make  the  most  digressions ;  hence  the  lit 
tle  old-fashioned  civility  of  apologising  for  them.  The 
one  I  have  just  made  seemed  necessary  to  explain  why 
Sister  Giovanna  was  able  to  go  to  her  patient  directly 
from  Seven's  rooms,  and  to  take  up  her  work  with  as 
much  quiet  efficiency  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  hap 
pened. 

She  had  found  the  portress  in  considerable  perturba 
tion,  for  the  right  carriage  had  just  arrived,  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  late  instead  of  half-an-hour  too  soon.  Sister 
Giovanna  said  that  there  had  been  a  mistake,  that  she 
had  been  taken  to  the  wrong  house,  that  the  first  car 
riage  should  not  have  come  to  the  hospital  of  the  White 
Nuns  at  all,  and  that  she  had  been  kept  waiting  some 
time  before  being  brought  back.  All  this  was  strictly 
true,  and  without  further  words  she  drove  away  to  the 
Villino  Barini,  the  brougham  Seven  had  hired  having 
already  disappeared.  As  he  had  foreseen,  it  was  impos 
sible  that  any  one  should  suspect  what  had  happened, 
for  the  nun  was  above  suspicion,  and  when  his  carriage 
had  once  left  the  Convent  door  no  one  could  ever  trace 
the  sham  coachman  and  footman  in  order  to  question 
them.  In  that  direction,  therefore,  there  was  nothing 
to  fear.  The  authority  of  an  Italian  officer  over  his 
orderly  is  great,  and  his  power  of  making  the  conscript's 
life  singularly  easy  or  perfectly  unbearable  is  greater. 
Even  Sister  Giovanna  knew  that,  and  she  felt  no  anxiety 
about  the  future. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  287 

Her  mind  was  the  more  free  to  serve  her  conscience 
in  examining  her  own  conduct.  It  was  not  her  right  to 
analyse  Giovanni's,  however;  he  had  made  the  circum 
stances  in  which  she  had  been  placed  against  her  will, 
and  the  only  question  was,  whether  she  had  done  right 
in  a  position  she  could  neither  have  foreseen,  so  as  to 
avoid  it,  nor  have  escaped  from  when  once  caught  in  it. 

Examinations  of  conscience  are  tedious  to  every  one 
except  the  subject  of  them,  who  generally  finds  them 
disagreeable,  and  sometimes  positively  painful.  Sister 
Giovanna  was  honest  with  herself  and  was  broad-minded 
enough  to  be  fair;  her  memory  had  always  been  very 
good,  she  could  recall  nearly  every  word  of  the  long 
interview,  and  she  accused  herself  of  having  been  weak 
twice,  namely,  when  she  had  admitted  that  she  was 
tempted,  and  when  she  had  raised  the  revolver  and 
Giovanni  had  thrown  himself  against  it.  The  danger 
had  been  great  at  that  moment,  she  knew,  for  she  had 
felt  that  her  mind  was  losing  its  balance.  But  she  had 
not  wished  to  kill  him,  even  for  a  moment,  though  a 
terrifying  conviction  that  her  finger  was  going  to  pull 
the  trigger  in  spite  of  her  had  taken  away  her  breath. 
Looking  back,  she  thought  it  must  have  been  the  sensa 
tion  some  people  have  at  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  when 
they  feel  an  insane  impulse  to  jump  off,  without  having 
the  slightest  wish  to  destroy  themselves.  If  a  man 
affected  in  this  way  should  lose  his  head  and  leap  to 
destruction,  his  act  would  assuredly  not  be  suicide. 
The  nun  knew  it  very  well,  and  she  was  equally  sure  that 
if  she  had  been  startled  into  pulling  the  trigger,  and  had 


288  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

killed  the  man  she  had  loved  so  well,  it  would  not  have 
been  homicide,  whatever  the  law  might  have  called  it. 
But  the  consequences  would  have  been  frightful,  and 
the  danger  had  been  real.  She  could  be  thankful  for 
her  good  nerves,  since  nothing  had  happened,  that  was 
all.  Where  she  had  done  wrong  had  been  in  taking  up 
the  weapon,  great  as  the  provocation  to  self-defence  had 
been. 

Morally  speaking,  and  apart  from  the  possible  fatal 
result,  her  main  fault  lay  in  having  confessed  to  Giovanni 
that  she  was  really  tempted  to  ask  release  from  her  vows. 
Now  that  he  was  not  near,  no  such  temptation  assailed 
her,  but  there  had  been  a  time  when  to  resist  it  had 
seemed  the  greatest  sacrifice  that  any  human  being  could 
make.  She  could  only  draw  one  conclusion  from  this 
fact,  but  it  was  a  grave  one:  in  spite  of  her  past  life, 
her  vows  and  her  heartfelt  faith,  she  was  not  free  from 
material  and  earthly  passion.  Innocence  is  one  thing, 
ignorance  is  another,  and  a  trained  nurse  of  twenty-five 
cannot  and  should  not  be  as  ignorant  as  a  child,  whether 
she  be  a  nun  or  a  lay  woman.  Sister  Giovanna  knew 
what  she  had  felt :  it  had  been  the  thrill  of  an  awakened 
sense,  not  the  vibration  of  a  heartfelt  sympathy;  it 
belonged  neither  to  the  immortal  spirit  nor  to  the  king 
dom  of  the  mind,  but  to  the  dying  body.  Temptation 
is  not  sin,  but  it  is  wrong  to  expose  oneself  to  it  willingly, 
except  for  a  purpose  so  high  as  to  justify  the  risk.  Sister 
Giovanna  quietly  resolved  that  she  would  never  see 
Seven  again,  and  she  judged  that  the  surest  way  of 
abiding  by  her  resolution  was  to  join  the  mission  to  the 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  289 

Far  East  and  leave  Italy  for  ever.  Having  already 
thought  of  taking  the  step  merely  in  order  to  get  away 
from  the  possibility  of  hating  a  person  who  had  wronged 
her  and  robbed  her,  it  seemed  indeed  her  duty  to  take 
it  now  for  this  much  stronger  reason.  Since  she  could 
still  be  weak,  her  first  and  greatest  duty  was  to  put  her 
self  beyond  the  reach  of  weakening  influences.  Gio 
vanni  would  not  leave  Rome  while  she  stayed  there, 
that  was  certain;  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  go 
away  herself,  for  a  man  capable  of  such  a  daring  and 
lawless  deed  as  carrying  her  off  from  the  door  of  the 
Convent,  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  portress,  might  do 
anything.  Indeed,  he  might  even  follow  her  to  Rangoon ; 
but  she  must  risk  that,  or  bury  herself  in  a  cloister, 
which  she  would  not  do  if  she  could  help  it. 

While  she  was  nursing  the  new  case  to  which  she  had 
been  called,  her  resolution  became  irrevocable.  When 
the  patient  finally  recovered  she  returned  to  the  Convent, 
and  it  was  not  till  she  had  been  doing  ordinary  work  in 
the  hospital  during  several  days  that  she  asked  to  see 
the  Mother  Superior  alone.  Captain  Ugo  Severi  had 
gone  to  the  baths  of  Montecatini  to  complete  his  cure, 
nothing  more  had  been  heard  of  Giovanni,  and  the 
Mother  was  inclined  to  believe  that  his  meeting  with 
Sister  Giovanna  had  been  final,  and  that  he  would  make 
no  further  attempt  to  see  her.  But  the  nun  herself 
thought  otherwise. 

She  sat  where  she  always  did  when  she  came  to  the 
Mother  Superior's  room,  on  a  straight-backed  chair 
between  the  corner  of  the  table  and  the  wall,  and  she 


290  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

told  her  story  without  once  faltering  or  hesitating,  though 
without  once  looking  up,  from  the  moment  when  she  had 
got  into  the  wrong  carriage  till  she  had  at  last  reached 
the  Villino  Barini  in  safety.  Though  it  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  and  the  light  was  failing,  the  Mother  shaded 
her  eyes  with  one  hand  while  she  listened. 

There  was  neither  rule  nor  tradition  under  which  Sister 
Giovanna  could  have  felt  it  her  duty  to  tell  her  superior 
what  had  happened,  and  she  had  necessarily  been  the 
only  judge  of  what  her  confessor  should  know  of  the 
matter.  Even  now,  if  she  had  burst  into  floods  of  tears 
or  shown  any  other  signs  of  being  on  the  verge  of  a  ner 
vous  crisis,  the  elder  woman  would  probably  have  stopped 
her  and  told  her  not  to  make  confidences  that  concerned 
another  person  until  she  was  calmer.  But  she  evidently 
had  full  control  of  her  words  and  outward  bearing,  and 
the  Mother  listened  in  silence.  Then  the  young  nun 
expounded  the  conclusion  to  which  she  believed  herself 
forced:  she  must  leave  a  country  in  which  Giovanni 
might  at  any  moment  make  another  meeting  inevitable, 
and  the  safest  refuge  was  the  Rangoon  Leper  Asylum. 
She  formally  asked  permission  to  be  allowed  to  join  the 
mission. 

The  Mother  Superior's  nervous  little  hand  contracted 
spasmodically  upon  her  eyes,  and  then  joined  its  fellow 
on  her  knee.  She  sat  quite  still  for  a  few  seconds, 
looking  towards  the  window;  the  evening  glow  was  be 
ginning  to  fill  the  garden  and  the  cloisters  with  purple 
and  gold,  and  a  faint  reflection  came  up  to  her  suffering 
face. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  291 

'It  kills  me  to  let  you  go/  she  said  at  last,  just  above 
a  whisper. 

The  words  and  the  tone  took  Sister  Giovanna  by  sur 
prise,  though  she  had  lately  understood  that  the  Mother 
Superior's  affection  for  her  was  much  stronger  than  she 
would  formerly  have  believed  possible ;  it  was  something 
more  than  the  sincere  friendship  which  a  middle-aged 
woman  might  feel  for  one  much  younger,  and  it  was 
certainly  not  founded  on  the  fact  that  the  latter  was  an 
exceptionally  gifted  nurse,  whose  presence  and  activity 
were  of  the  highest  importance  to  the  hospital.  Neither 
friendship  nor  admiration  for  a  fellow-worker  could 
explain  an  emotion  of  such  tragic  depth  and  strength  that 
it  seemed  almost  too  human  in  a  woman  otherwise  quite 
above  and  beyond  ordinary  humanity.  Sister  Giovanna 
could  find  nothing  to  say,  and  waited  in  silence. 

'I  did  not  know  that  one  could  feel  such  pain,'  said 
Mother  Veronica,  looking  steadily  out  of  the  window; 
but  her  voice  was  little  more  than  a  breath. 

The  Sister  could  not  understand,  but  in  the  midst  of 
her  own  great  trouble,  the  sight  of  a  suffering  as  great 
as  her  own,  and  borne  on  account  of  her,  moved  her 
deeply. 

All  at  once  the  Mother  Superior  swayed  to  one  side 
on  her  chair,  as  if  she  were  fainting,  and  she  might  have 
fallen  if  the  nun  had  not  darted  forward  to  hold  her 
upright ;  but  at  the  touch,  she  straightened  herself  with 
an  effort  and  gently  pushed  the  young  Sister  away  from 
her. 

'If  it  is  for  me  that  you  are  in  such  pain,  Mother,' 


292  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

said  Sister  Giovanna  gently, '  I  cannot  thank  you  enough 
for  being  so  sorry !  But  I  do  not  deserve  that  you 
should  care  so  much  —  indeed,  I  do  not ! ' 

'  If  I  could  give  my  life  for  yours,  it  would  still  be  too 
little !' 

'You  are  giving  your  life  for  many/  Sister  Giovanna 
answered  gently.  'That  is  better.' 

"No.  It  is  not  better,  but  it  is  the  best  I  can  do. 
You  do  not  understand.' 

'  How  can  I  ?    But  I  am  grateful ' 

'You  owe  me  nothing/  the  Mother  Superior  answered 
with  sudden  energy,  'but  I  owe  you  everything.  You 
have  given  me  the  happiest  hours  of  my  life.  But  it 
was  too  much.  God  sent  you  to  me,  and  God  is  taking 
you  away  from  me  —  God's  will  be  done ! ' 

Sister  Giovanna  felt  that  she  was  near  something 
very  strange  and  great  which  she  might  not  be  able  to 
comprehend  if  it  were  shown  clearly,  and  which  almost 
frightened  her  by  its  mysterious  veiled  presence.  The 
evening  light  penetrated  Mother  Veronica's  translucid 
features,  as  if  they  were  carved  out  of  alabaster,  and 
the  hues  that  lingered  in  them  might  have  been  reflected 
from  heaven ;  her  upturned  eyes,  that  sometimes  looked 
so  small  and  piercing,  were  wide  and  sorrowful  now. 
The  young  Sister  saw,  but  guessed  nothing  of  the  truth. 

'The  happiest  hours  in  your  life !'  She  repeated  the 
words  with  wonder. 

'Yes/  said  the  elder  woman  slowly,  'the  happiest  by 
far !  Since  you  have  been  here,  you  have  never  given 
me  one  bad  moment,  by  word  or  deed,  excepting  by  the 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  293 

pain  you  yourself  have  had  to  bear.  If  you  go  away, 
and  if  I  should  not  live  long,  remember  what  I  have  told 
you,  for  if  you  have  some  affection  for  me,  it  will  comfort 
you  to  think  that  you  have  made  me  very,  very  happy 
for  five  long  years.' 

'  I  am  glad,  though  I  have  done  nothing  but  my  duty, 
and  barely  that.  I  cannot  see  how  I  deserve  such  praise, 
but  if  I  have  satisfied  you,  I  am  most  glad.  You  have 
been  a  mother  to  me.' 

Slowly  the  transfigured  face  turned  to  her  at  last, 
full  of  radiance. 

'Do  you  mean  it  just  as  you  say  it,  my  dear?' 

'  Indeed,  indeed,  I  do ! '  Sister  Giovanna  answered, 
wondering  more  and  more,  but  in  true  earnest. 

The  dark  eyes  gazed  on  her  steadily  for  a  long  time, 
with  an  expression  she  had  never  seen  in  human  eyes 
before.  Then  the  truth  came,  soft  and  low. 

'I  am  your  mother.' 

1  You  are  a  mother  to  us  all,'  the  young  Sister  answered. 

'  I  am  your  mother,  dear,  your  own  mother  that  bore 
you  —  you,  my  only  child.  Do  you  understand  ? ' 

Sister  Giovanna's  eyes  opened  wide  in  amazement, 
but  there  was  a  forelightening  of  joy  in  her  face. 

1  You  ? '  she  cried.  '  But  I  knew  my  mother  —  my 
father ' 

'  No.  She  whom  you  called  your  mother  was  my  elder 
sister.  I  ran  away  with  the  man  I  loved,  because  he 
was  a  Protestant  and  poor,  and  my  parents  would  not 
allow  the  marriage.  We  were  married  in  his  Church, 
but  my  family  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  me. 


294  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

I  was  an  outcast  for  them,  disgraced,  never  to  be  men 
tioned.  Your  own  father  died  of  typhoid  fever  a  few 
days  before  you  were  born.  I  was  ill  a  long  time,  ill 
and  poor,  almost  starving.  I  wrote  to  my  sister,  im 
ploring  help.  She  and  her  husband  bargained  with  me. 
They  agreed  to  make  a  long  journey  and  bring  you  back 
as  their  child.  They  promised  that  you  should  be 
splendidly  provided  for;  you  would  be  an  heiress,  all 
that  my  brother-in-law  could  legally  dispose  of  should 
go  to  you ;  but  I  was  to  disappear  for  ever  and  never  let 
the  truth  be  known.  What  could  I  do  ?  You  were  two 
months  old  and  I  was 'penniless.  I  let  them  take  you, 
and  I  became  a  nursing  sister.  It  was  like  tearing  off 
a  limb,  but  I  let  you  go  to  the  glorious  future  that  was 
before  you.  At  least,  you  would  have  all  the  world 
held,  to  make  up  for  my  love,  and  I  knew  they  would 
be  kind  to  you.  They  were  ashamed  of  me,  that  was  all. 
They  said  that  I  was  not  married !  You  know  how 
rigid  they  were,  with  their  traditions  and  prejudices ! 
That  is  my  story.  I  have  kept  my  word,  and  their 
secret,  until  to-day.' 

Sister  Giovanna  listened  with  wide  eyes  and  parted 
lips,  for  the  world  she  had  lived  in  during  more  than 
five-and-twenty  years  was  wrenched  from  its  path  and 
sent  whirling  into  space  at  a  tangent  she  could  not 
follow;  there  was  nothing  firm  under  her  feet,  she  had 
nothing  substantial  left,  not  even  the  name  she  had  once 
called  her  own.  It  had  all  been  unreal.  The  dead 
Knight  of  Malta  lying  in  state  in  the  great  palace  had 
not  been  her  father;  the  delicate  woman  with  the  ascetic 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  295 

face,  who  had  died  when  she  had  been  a  little  child, 
had  not  been  her  mother;  they  had  never  registered 
her  birth  at  the  Municipality  because  she  had  not  been 
their  child  and  had  not  even  been  born  in  Rome;  they 
had  not  taken  the  proper  legal  steps  to  adopt  her  and 
make  her  their  heir,  because  they  had  been  ashamed  of 
her  own  mother.  And  her  own  mother  was  before  her, 
Mother  Veronica,  the  Superior  of  the  Convent  in  which 
she  had  taken  refuge  because  they  had  left  her  a  destitute, 
nameless,  penniless  waif,  after  promising  to  make  her 
their  daughter  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  She  knew  that 
without  a  certificate  of  birth  a  girl  could  not  easily  be 
legally  married  in  Italy ;  if  the  Prince  had  lived  and  she 
had  been  about  to  marry,  what  would  he  have  done 
about  that?  But  he  was  gone,  and  she  would  not  ask 
herself  such  a  question,  for  the  answer  seemed  to  be 
that  he  would  have  done  something  dishonest  rather 
than  admit  the  truth.  A  deep  resentment  sprang  up 
in  her  against  the  dead  man  and  woman  who  had  not 
honourably  kept  their  solemn  promise  to  her  mother, 
and  her  aunt's  lawless  act  and  hatred  of  her  sank  into 
insignificance  beside  their  sin  of  omission.  If  the  Prin 
cess's  confession  during  her  illness  had  not  been  alto 
gether  the  invention  of  a  fevered  brain,  and  if  there  had 
really  been  a  will,  it  had  been  worthless,  and  its  destruc 
tion  had  not  robbed  Angela  of  a  farthing.  She  and 
her  mother  had  been  cheated  and  their  lives  made  des 
olate  by  those  other  two ;  she  must  not  think  of  it,  lest 
she  should  hate  the  dead,  as  she  had  dreaded  to  hate 
the  living. 


296  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

All  this  had  flashed  upon  her  mind  in  one  of  those 
quick  visions  of  the  truth  by  which  we  sometimes  become 
aware  of  many  closely  connected  facts  simultaneously, 
without  taking  account  of  each.  After  the  Mother 
Superior  had  ceased  speaking  the  silence  lasted  only  a 
few  seconds,  but  it  seemed  long  to  her  now  that  she  had 
told  her  secret  and  was  waiting  to  be  answered.  Would 
her  daughter  forgive  her?  The  young  nun's  face  ex 
pressed  nothing  she  felt  at  that  moment ;  for  the  staring 
eyes  and  parted  lips  remained  mechanically  fixed  in  a 
look  of  blind  surprise  long  after  her  thoughts  were  on  the 
wing;  and  her  thoughts  flew  far,  but  their  wide-circling 
flight  brought  them  back,  like  swallows,  as  swiftly  as 
they  had  flown  away. 

Then  her  heart  spoke,  and  in  another  moment  she  was 
at  her  mother's  knee,  like  a  child,  with  a  little  natural 
cry  that  had  never  passed  her  lips  before.  For  a  breath 
ing-space  both  guessed  what  heaven  might  hold  of  rest, 
refreshment,  and  peace,  and  the  march  of  tragic  fate  was 
stayed  while  mother  and  daughter  communed  together, 
and  dreamed  of  never  parting  on  earth  but  to  meet  in 
heaven,  of  keeping  their  sweet  secret  from  all  the  world 
as  something  sacred  for  themselves,  of  working  side  by 
side,  in  one  life,  one  love,  one  faith,  one  hope,  of  facing 
all  earthly  trouble  together,  and  of  fighting  every  battle 
of  the  spirit  hand  in  hand. 

Two  could  bear  what  one  could  not.  Sister  Giovanna 
felt  that  fresh  strength  was  given  her,  and  the  long- 
tried  elder  woman  was  conscious  that  her  will  to  do  good 
was  renewed  and  doubled  and  trebled,  so  that  it  could 


THE  WHITE  SISTER 


297 


accomplish  twice  and  three  times  as  much  as  before. 
Her  daughter  would  not  leave  her  now,  to  be  a  martyr 
in  the  East,  as  the  only  escape  from  herself  and  from  the 
man  who  loved  her  too  daringly.  Why  should  she  go  ? 
If  she  still  felt  that  she  must  leave  Rome  for  a  time, 
she  could  go  to  one  of  the  order's  houses  far  away, 
but  not  to  the  East,  the  deadly  East !  Heaven  did  not 
love  useless  suffering;  the  Church  condemned  all  self- 
sacrifice  that  was  not  meet,  right,  and  reasonable. 
In  due  time  she  would  come  back,  when  all  danger  was 
over,  when  Giovanni  had  lived  through  the  first  days  of 
surprise,  disappointment,  and  passion. 

The  sunset  glow  had  faded  and  twilight  was  coming 
on  when  the  two  went  down  the  steps  and  crossed  the 
cloistered  garden  to  the  chapel,  for  it  was  the  hour  for 
Vespers.  They  walked  as  usual,  with  an  even,  noiseless 
tread,  the  young  nun  on  the  left  of  her  superior  and 
keeping  step  with  her,  but  not  quite  close  to  her,  for  that 
would  not  have  been  respectful;  yet  each  felt  as  if  the 
other's  hand  were  in  hers  and  their  hearts  were  beating 
gently  with  the  same  loving  thought.  Peace  had  come 
upon  them  and  they  felt  that  it  would  be  lasting. 

At  the  chapel  door  they  separated;  the  Mother 
Superior  passed  to  her  high-backed,  carved  seat  at  the 
end,  the  three  aged  nuns  who  had  survived  from  other 
times  sat  next  'to  her  in  the  order  of  their  years,  and 
Sister  Giovanna  took  her  appointed  place  much  farther 
down.  A  number  of  seats  were  empty,  belonging  to 
those  nurses  who  were  attending  private  cases. 

Cloistered  nuns  spend  many  hours  of  the  day  and 


298  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

night  in  chapel,  but  the  working  orders  use  short  offices 
and  have  much  latitude  as  to  the  hours  at  which  their 
services  are  held.  Except  on  Sundays  and  at  daily 
mass,  no  priest  officiates;  the  Mother  Superior  or 
Mother  Prioress  leads  with  her  side  of  the  choir,  the 
Sub-Prioress,  or  the  Mistress  of  the  Novices,  or  who 
ever  is  second  in  authority,  responds  with  the  other 
nuns.  The  Office  of  Saint  Dominic  for  Vespers  prac 
tically  consists  of  one  short  Psalm,  a  very  diminutive 
Lesson,  one  Hymn,  and  the  beautiful  Canticle  'My 
soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord';  then  follows  a  little 
prayer  and  the  short  responsory,  and  all  is  over.  The 
whole  service  does  not  last  ten  minutes. 

The  women's  voices  answered  each  other  peacefully, 
and  then  rose  together  in  the  quaint  old  melody  of 
the  hymn,  the  sweet  notes  of  the  younger  ones  carried 
high  on  the  stronger  tones  of  the  elder  Sisters,  while 
the  three  old  nuns  droned  on  in  a  sort  of  patient,  nasal, 
half-mannish  counter-tenor,  scarcely  pronouncing  the 
words  they  sang,  but  making  an  accompaniment  that 
was  not  wholly  unpleasing. 

Two  versiclcs  of  responsory  next,  and  then  the  Mother 
Superior  began  to  intone  the  Magnificat,  and  Sister 
Giovanna  took  up  the  grand  plain-chant  with  the  others. 
In  spite  of  her  deep  trouble,  the  words  had  never  meant 
to  her  what  they  meant  now,  and  she  felt  her  world 
lifted  up  from  earth  to  the  gates  of  Peace. 

But  she  was  not  to  reach  the  end  of  the  wonderful 
song  that  day. 

'And  His  mercy  is  on  them  that  fear  Him,  from 
generation  to  generation,'  the  nuns  sang. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER 


299 


With  a  crash,  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  at  their 
feet  in  the  choir,  the  Great  Unforeseen  once  more 
flashed  from  its  hiding-place  and  hurled  itself  into  their 
midst. 

The  chapel  rocked  to  and  fro  twice  with  a  horrible 
noise  of  loosened  masonry  grinding  on  itself,  and  the 
panes  of  the  high  windows  fell  in  three  separate  showers 
and  were  smashed  to  thousands  of  splinters  on  the 
stone  floor,  the  lights  went  out,  the  sacred  ornaments 
on  the  altar  toppled  and  fell  upon  each  other,  the 
twilight  that  glimmered  through  the  broken  windows 
alone  overcame  the  darkness  in  the  wrecked  church. 
The  destruction  was  sudden,  violent,  and  quick.  In 
less  than  fifteen  seconds  after  the  shock,  perfect  still 
ness  reigned  again. 

The  Sisters,  in  their  first  terror,  caught  at  each  other 
instinctively,  or  grasped  the  woodwork  with  convulsed 
hands.  One  or  two  novices  had  screamed  outright, 
but  the  most  of  them  uttered  an  ejaculatory  prayer, 
more  than  half  unconscious.  The  Mother  Superior  was 
standing  upright  and  motionless  in  her  place. 

'Is  any  one  hurt?'  she  asked  steadily,  and  looking 
round  the  semicircle  in  the  gloom. 

No  answer  came  to  her  question. 

'If  any  one  of  you  was  struck  by  anything/  she  said 
again,  'let  her  speak.' 

No  one  had  been  hurt,  for  the  small  choir  was  under 
the  apse  of  the  chapel  and  there  were  no  windows  there. 

'Let  us  go  to  the  hospital  at  once/  she  said.  'The 
patients  will  need  us.' 


300  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Her  calm  imposed  itself  upon  the  young  novices  and 
one  or  two  of  the  more  nervous  Sisters;  the  others 
were  brave  women  and  had  only  been  badly  startled 
and  shaken,  for  which  no  one  could  blame  them.  They 
filed  out,  two  and  two,  by  the  side  door  of  the  choir, 
Mother  Veronica  coming  last.  From  the  cloister  they 
could  see  that  the  big  glass  door  of  the  reception-hall 
was  smashed,  and  that  the  windows  overhead  on  that 
side  were  also  broken.  Singularly  enough,  not  one  of 
those  on  the  other  side  was  injured. 

All  had  felt  the  certainty  that  a  dynamite  bomb  had 
been  exploded  somewhere  in  the  building  with  the 
intention  of  blowing  up  the  hospital.  As  they  fell  out 
of  their  ranks  and  scattered  in  twos  and  threes,  hasten 
ing  to  the  different  parts  of  the  establishment  where 
each  did  her  accustomed  work,  Sister  Giovanna  natu 
rally  found  herself  beside  the  Mother  Superior.  As  one 
of  the  supervising  nurses,  she  was,  of  course,  needed  in 
the  hospital  itself  with  her  superior. 

'  What  do  you  think  it  was,  Mother  ? '  she  asked  in  a 
low  tone.  . 

'Nothing  but  dynamite  could  have  done  such  dam 
age  ' 

She  was  still  speaking,  when  a  lay  sister  rushed  out  of 
the  door  they  were  about  to  enter,  with  a  broom  in  her 
hand,  which  she  had  evidently  forgotten  to  put  down. 

'The  powder  magazine  at  Monteverde!'  she  cried 
excitedly.  '  I  saw  it  from  the  window !  It  was  like 
fireworks !  It  has  blown  up  with  everybody  in  it,  I 
am  sure!' 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THE  lay  sister  was  right.  The  great  powder  maga 
zine  at  Monte verde  had  been  blown  up,  but  by  what 
hands  no  one  has  ever  surely  known.  The  destruction 
was  sudden,  complete,  tremendous,  for  a  large  quantity 
of  dynamite  had  been  stored  in  the  deep  vaults.  To 
day,  a  great  hollow  in  the  side  of  the  hill  and  near  the 
road  marks  the  spot  where  the  buildings  stood.  Many 
stories  have  been  told  of  the  catastrophe;  many  tales 
have  been  repeated  about  suspicious  characters  who 
had  been  seen  in  the  neighbourhood  before  the  fatal 
event,  and  for  some  of  these  there  is  fairly  good  au 
thority. 

All  those  who  were  in  the  city  when  the  explosion 
took  place,  and  I  myself  was  in  Home  at  the  time, 
will  remember  how  every  one  was  at  first  convinced 
that  his  own  house  had  been  struck  by  lightning  or 
suddenly  shaken  to  its  foundations.  Every  one  will 
remember,  too,  the  long  and  ringing  shower  of  broken 
glass  that  followed  instantly  upon  the  terrific  report. 
Every  window  looking  westward  was  broken  at  once, 
except  some  few  on  the  lower  stories  of  houses  pro 
tected  by  buildings  opposite. 

Giovanni  Severi  was  in  the  main  building  over  the 
vaults  a  short  time  before  the  catastrophe,  having  just 
finished  a  special  inspection  which  had  occupied  most 

301 


302  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

of  the  afternoon.  He  was  moving  to  leave  the  place 
when  an  unfamiliar  sound  caught  his  ears,  a  noise 
muffled  yet  sharp,  like  that  of  the  discharge  of  musketry 
heard  through  a  thick  wall.  The  junior  officers  and  the 
corporal  who  were  with  him  heard  it,  too,  but  did  not 
understand  its  meaning.  Giovanni,  however,  instantly 
remembered  the  story  told  by  one  of  the  survivors 
from  a  terrible  explosion  of  ammunition  near  Naples 
many  years  previously.  That  muffled  sound  of  quick 
firing  came  from  metallic  cartridges  exploding  within 
the  cases  that  held  them;  each  case  would  burst  and 
set  fire  to  others  beside  it;  like  the  spark  that  runs 
along  a  fuse,  the  train  of  boxes  would  blow  up  in  quick 
succession  till  the  large  stores  of  gunpowder  were  fired 
and  then  a  mass  of  dynamite  beyond.  There  were 
di visions  in  the  vaults,  there  were  doors,  there  were 
walls,  but  Giovanni  well  knew  that  no  such  barriers 
would  avail  for  more  than  a  few  minutes. 

Without  raising  his  voice,  he  led  his  companions  to 
the  open  door,  speaking  as  he  went. 

'The  magazine  will  blow  up  in  two  or  three  minutes 
at  the  outside/  he  said.  'Send  the  men  running  in  all 
directions,  and  go  yourselves,  to  warn  the  people  in  the 
cottages  near  by  to  get  out  of  doors  at  once.  It  will 
be  like  an  earthquake;  every  house  within  five  hun 
dred  yards  will  be  shaken  down.  Now  run !  Run  for 
your  lives  and  to  save  the  lives  of  others !  Call  out  the 
men  as  you  pass  the  gates.' 

The  three  dart«.l  away  across  the  open  space  that 
lay  between  the  central  building  and  the  guard-house. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  303 

Giovanni  ran,  too,  but  not  away  from  the  danger.  There 
were  sentries  stationed  at  intervals  all  round  the  outer 
wall,  as  round  the  walls  of  a  prison,  and  they  would 
have  little  chance  of  life  if  they  remained  at  their  posts. 
Giovanni  ran  like  a  deer,  but  even  so  he  lost  many 
seconds  in  giving  his  orders  to  each  sentinel,  to  run 
straight  for  the  open  fields  to  the  nearest  cottages  and 
to  give  warning.  The  astonished  sentinels  obeyed  in 
stantly,  and  Giovanni  ran  on.  He  reached  the  very 
last  just  too  late;  at  that  moment  the  thunder  of  the 
explosion  rent  the  air.  He  felt  the  earth  rock  and 
was  thrown  violently  to  the  ground;  then  something 
struck  his  right  arm  and  shoulder,  pinning  him  down; 
he  closed  his  eyes  and  was  beyond  hearing  or  feeling. 

Within  three-quarters  of  an  hour  the  road  to  Monte- 
verde  was  thronged  with  vehicles  of  all  sorts  and  with 
crowds  of  people  on  foot.  The  nature  of  the  disaster 
had  been  understood  at  once  by  the  soldiery,  and  the 
explanation  had  spread  among  the  people,  rousing  that 
strange  mixture  of  curiosity  and  horror  that  draws  the 
common  throng  to  the  scene  of  every  accident  or  crime. 
But  amongst  the  very  first  the  King  was  on  the  spot 
with  half-a-dozen  superior  officers,  and  in  the  briefest 
possible  time  the  search  for  dead  and  wounded  began. 
The  story  of  Giovanni's  splendid  presence  of  mind  and 
heroic  courage  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth.  The  junior 
officers  and  the  men  whom  he  had  sent  in  all  directions 
came  in  and  reported  themselves  to  the  officer  who 
had  taken  charge  of  everything  for  the  time  being. 
Only  one  man  was  missing  —  only  one  man  and  Gio- 


304  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

vanni  himself.  A  few  casualties  amongst  the  peasants 
were  reported,  but  not  a  life  had  been  lost  and  hardly 
a  bone  was  broken.  Yet  Giovanni  was  missing. 

With  the  confidence  of  men  who  understood  that 
the  magazine  must  have  been  so  entirely  destroyed 
at  once  as  to  annihilate  all  further  danger  in  an  in 
stant,  the  searchers  went  up  to  the  ruin  of  the  outer 
wall  and  peered  into  the  great  dusty  pit  out  of  which 
the  foundations  of  the  magazine  had  been  hurled  hun 
dreds  of  feet  into  the  air.  Something  of  the  outline  of 
the  enclosure  could  still  be  traced,  and  the  sentinels 
whom  Giovanni  had  warned  from  their  post  had  already 
told  their  story.  They  found,  too,  that  the  missing  man 
himself  had  been  one  of  the  sentries,  and  the  inference 
was  clear:  their  commanding  officer  had  been  killed 
before  he  had  reached  the  last  post. 

For  a  long  time  they  searched  in  vain.  Great  masses 
of  masonry  had  shot  through  the  outer  wall  and  had 
rolled  on  or  been  stopped  by  the  inequalities  of  the 
ground.  Most  of  the  wall  itself  was  fallen  and  its 
direction  could  only  be  traced  by  a  heap  of  ruins.  Twi 
light  had  turned  to  darkness,  and  the  search  grew 
more  and  more  difficult  as  a  fine  rain  began  to  fall. 
Below,  the  multitude  was  already  ebbing  back  to 
Rome;  it  was  dark,  it  was  wet,  hardly  any  one  had 
been  hurt,  and  there  was  nothing  to  see:  the  best 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  go  home. 

It  was  late  when  a  squad  of  four  artillerymen  heard 
a  low  moan  that  came  from  under  a  heap  of  stones 
close  by  them.  In  an  instant  they  were  at  work  with 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  305 

the  pickaxes  and  spades  they  had  borrowed  from  the 
peasants'  houses,  foreseeing  what  their  work  would  be. 
From  time  to  time  they  paused  a  moment  and  listened. 
Before  long  they  recognised  their  comrade's  voice. 

'  Easy,  brothers !  Don't  crack  my  skull  with  your 
pickaxes,  for  Heaven's  sake  ! J 

'Is  the  Captain  there?'  asked  one  of  the  men. 

'Dead/  answered  the  prisoner.  'He  was  warning 
me  when  we  were  knocked  down  together.  Make  haste, 
but  for  goodness'  sake  be  careful ! ' 

They  were  trained  men  and  they  did  their  work 
quickly  and  well.  What  had  happened  was  this.  The 
heavy  and  irregular  mass  of  masonry  that  had  pinned 
Giovanni  to  the  ground  by  his  arm  had  helped  to  make 
a  sort  of  shelter,  across  which  a  piece  of  the  outer  wall 
had  fallen  without  breaking,  followed  by  a  mass  of 
rubbish.  By  what  seemed  almost  a  miracle  to  the 
soldiers,  their  companion  was  entirely  unhurt,  and  no 
part  of  the  officer's  body  had  been  touched  except  the 
arm  that  lay  crushed  beneath  the  stones. 

They  cleared  away  the  rubbish  and  looked  at  him 
as  he  lay  on  his  back  pale  and  motionless  under  the 
light  of  their  lanterns.  They  knew  what  he  had  done 
now;  they  understood  that  of  them  all  he  was  the 
hero.  One  of  the  men  took  off  his  cap  reverently,  and 
immediately  the  others  followed  his  example,  and  so 
they  all  stood  for  a  few  moments  looking  at  him  in 
silence  and  in  deference  to  his  brave  deeds.  Then 
they  set  to  work  in  silence  to  move  the  heavy  block 
of  broken  masonry  that  had  felled  him,,  and  their  com- 


;;IM;  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

rade  helped  them  too,  though  he  was  stiff  and  bruised 
and  dazed  from  the  terrific  shock.  As  the  mass  yielded 
at  last  before  their  strength  and  rolled  away,  one  of  the 
men  uttered  a  cry. 

1  He  is  alive ! '   he  exclaimed.     '  He  moved  his  head  ! ' 

Before  he  had  finished  speaking  the  man  was  on  his 
knees  beside  Giovanni,  tearing  open  his  tunic  and  his 
.^hirt  to  listen  for  the  beating  of  his  heart.  It  was  faint 
but  audible.  Giovanni  Seven  was  not  dead  yet,  and  a 
few  moments  later  his  artillerymen  were  carrying  him 
down  the  hill  towards  the  road,  his  injured  arm  swing 
ing  like  a  rag  at  his  side. 

They  did  not  wait  for  orders;  there  were  a  number 
of  carriages  still  in  the  road  and  the  men  had  no  idea 
where  their  superiors  might  be.  Their  first  thought 
was  to  get  Giovanni  conveyed  to  a  hospital  as  soon  as 
possible. 

'We  must  take  him  to  the  White  Sisters/  said  the 
eldest  of  them.  'That  is  where  his  brother  was  so  long.' 

The  others  assented  readily  enough;  and  finding 
an  empty  cab  in  the  road,  they  lifted  the  wounded 
officer  into  it  and  pulled  up  the  hood  against  the  rain, 
whilst  two  of  them  crept  in  under  it,  telling  the  cab 
man  where  to  go. 

In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  cab  stopped 
before  the  hospital  of  the  White  Sisters,  and  when  the 
portress  opened  the  door,  the  two  artillerymen  ex 
plained  what  had  happened  and  begged  that  their 
officer  might  be  taken  in  at  once;  and,  moreover,  that 
the  portress  would  kindly  get  some  money  with  which 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  307 

to  pay  the  cabman,  as  they  could  only  raise  seven  sous 
between  them. 

The  Mother  Superior  had  supposed  that  there  would 
be  many  wounded,  and  had  directed  that  the  orderlies 
should  be  ready  at  the  door  with  stretchers,  although 
the  Convent  hospital  did  not  receive  accident  cases  or 
casualties  except  in  circumstances  of  extreme  emer 
gency.  The  hospital  of  the  Consolazione,  close  to  the 
Roman  Forum,  was  the  proper  place  for  these,  but  it 
was  very  much  farther,  and  the  White  Sisters  were  so 
well  known  in  all  Trastevere  that  they  were  sometimes 
called  upon,  even  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  to  take  in 
a  wounded  man  who  could  not  have  lived  to  reach  the 
great  hospital  beyond  the  Tiber. 

Under  the  brilliant  electric  light  in  the  main  hall, 
the  Mother  Superior  recognised  Giovanni's  unconscious 
face;  his  crushed  arm,  hanging  down  like  a  dolFs,  and 
his  torn  and  soiled  uniform,  told  the  rest.  He  was 
taken  at  once  to  the  room  his  brother  had  occupied  so 
long.  The  Mother  Superior  herself  helped  the  surgeon 
and  another  Sister  to  do  all  that  could  be  done  then. 
Sister  Giovanna  knew  nothing  of  his  coming,  for  she 
was  in  the  wards,  where  there  was  much  to  be  done. 
The  patients  who  had  fever  had  been  severely  affected 
by  the  terrible  explosion,  and  most  of  them  were  more 
or  less  delirious  and  had  to  be  quieted.  In  the  win 
dows  that  look  westward  every  pane  of  glass  was  broken, 
though  the  outer  shutters  had  been  closed  at  sunset,  a 
few  minutes  before  the  catastrophe.  There  were  heaps 
of  broken  glass  to  be  cleared  away,  and  the  patients 


308  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

whose  beds  were  now  exposed  to  draughts  were  moved. 
Sister  Giovanna,  who  was  not  the  supervising  nurse  for 
the  week,  worked  quietly  and  efficiently  with  the  others, 
carrying  out  all  directions  as  they  were  given;  but  her 
heart  misgave  her,  and  when  one  of  the  nuns  came  in 
and  said  in  a  low  voice  that  an  officer  from  Monteverde 
had  been  brought  in  with  his  arm  badly  crushed,  she 
steadied  herself  a  moment  by  the  foot  of  an  iron  bed 
stead.  In  the  shaded  light  of  the  ward  no  one  noticed 
her  agonised  face. 

Presently  she  was  able  to  ask  where  the  officer  was, 
and  the  Sister  who  had  brought  the  news  announced 
that  he  was  in  Number  Two.  It  was  Giovanni  now, 
and  not  his  brother,  the  unhappy  woman  was  sure  of 
that,  and  every  instinct  in  her  nature  bade  her  go  to 
him  at  once.  But  the  unconscious  volition  of  those 
long  trained  to  duty  is  stronger  than  almost  any  im 
pulse  except  that  of  downright  fear,  and  Sister  Gio- 
vanna  stayed  where  she  was,  for  there  was  still  much 
to  be  done. 

About  half-an-hour  later  the  Mother  Superior  entered 
the  ward  and  found  her  and  led  her  quietly  out.  When 
they  were  alone  together,  the  elder  woman  told  her  the 
truth. 

'Giovanni  Severi  has  been  brought  here  from  Monte 
verde/  she  said.  'His  right  arm  is  so  badly  crushed 
that  unless  it  is  amputated  he  will  certainly  die.' 

Sister  Giovanna  did  not  start,  for  she  had  guessed 
that  he  had  received  some  terrible  injury.  She  an 
swered  quietly  enough,  by  a  question. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  309 

'Is  he  conscious?'  she  asked.  'I  believe  that,  by 
the  law,  his  consent  must  be  obtained  before  the  opera 
tion/ 

'He  came  to  himself,  but  the  doctor  thought  it  best 
to  give  him  a  hypodermic  of  morphia  and  he  is  asleep.' 

'  Did  he  speak,  while  he  was  conscious  ? ' 

The  Mother  Superior  knew  what  was  passing  in  her 
daughter's  mind,  and  looked  quietly  into  the  expectant 
eyes. 

'He  did  not  pronounce  your  name,  but  he  said  that 
he  would  rather  die  outright  than  lose  his  right  arm. 
In  any  case,  it  would  not  be  possible  to  amputate  it 
during  the  night.  He  had  probably  dined  before  the 
accident,  and  it  will  not  be  safe  to  put  him  under  ether 
before  to-morrow  morning.7 

Sister  Giovanna  did  not  speak  for  a  few  moments, 
though  the  Mother  Superior  was  almost  quite  sure 
what  her  next  words  would  be,  and  that  the  young  nun 
was  mentally  weighing  her  own  strength  of  character 
with  the  circumstances  that  might  arise. 

'May  I  take  care  of  him  to-night?'  she  asked  at 
last  rather  suddenly,  like  a  person  who  has  decided  to 
run  a  grave  risk. 

'  Can  you  be  sure  of  yourself  ? '  asked  the  elder  woman, 
trying  to  put  the  question  in  the  authoritative  tone 
which  she  would  have  used  with  any  other  Sister  in  the 
community. 

But  it  was  of  no  use;  when  she  thought  of  all  it 
meant,  and  of  what  the  delicate  girl  was  to  her,  all  the 
coldness  went  out  of  her  voice  and  the  deepest  motherly 


310  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

sympathy  took  its  place.  The  answer  came  after  a 
short  pause  in  which  the  question  was  finally  decided. 

'Yes.     I  can  be  sure  of  myself  now.' 

'Then  come  with  me/  answered  the  Mother  Superior. 

They  followed  the  passage  to  the  lift,  were  taken  up 
to  the  third  floor,  and  a  few  moments  later  were  stand 
ing  before  the  closed  door  of  Number  Two.  The  Mother 
Superior  paused  with  her  hand  on  the  door  knob.  She 
looked  silently  at  her  young  companion,  as  if  repeating 
the  question  she  had  already  asked;  and  Sister  Gio- 
vanna  understood  and  slowly  bent  her  head. 

'I  can  bear  anything  now/  she  said. 

She  opened  the  door,  and  the  two  entered  the  quiet 
room,  where  one  of  the  Sisters  sat  reading  her  breviary 
by  the  shaded  light  in  the  corner.  The  wounded  man 
lay  fast  asleep  under  the  influence  of  the  morphia,  and 
the  white  coverlet  was  drawn  up  to  his  chin.  He  was 
not  very  pale,  Sister  Giovanna  thought;  but  she  could 
not  see  well,  because  there  was  a  green  shade  over  the 
small  electric  lamp  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 

'Sister  Giovanna  will  take  your  place  for  to-night/ 
said  the  Mother  Superior  to  the  nun,  who  had  risen 
respectfully,  and  who  left  the  room  at  once. 

The  mother  and  daughter  turned  to  the  bedside  and 
stood  looking  down  at  the  sleeping  man's  face.  In 
stinctively  their  hands  touched  and  then  held  each 
other.  Experience  told  them  both  that  in  all  prob 
ability  Giovanni  would  sleep  till  morning  under  the 
drug,  and  would  wake  in  a  dreamy  state  in  which  he 
might  not  recognise  his  nurse  at  once;  but  sooner  or 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  311 

later  the  recognition  must  take  place,  words  must  be 
spoken,  and  a  question  must  be  asked.  Would  he  or 
would  he  not  consent  to  the  operation  which  alone 
could  save  his  life?  So  far  as  the  two  women  knew 
and  understood  the  law,  everything  depended  on  that. 
If  he  deliberately  refused,  it  would  be  because  he  chose 
not  to  live  without  Angela,  not  because  he  feared  to  go 
through  life  a  cripple.  They  were  both  sure  of  that, 
and  they  were  sure  also  that  if  any  one  could  persuade 
him  to  choose  life  where  the  choice  lay  in  his  own  hands, 
it  would  be  Sister  Giovanna  herself.  The  operation  was 
not  one  which  should  be  attended  with  great  danger; 
yet  so  far  as  the  law  provided  it  was  of  such  gravity 
as  to  require  the  patient's  own  consent. 

Neither  of  the  two  nuns  spoke  again  till  the  Mother 
Superior  was  at  the  door  to  go  out. 

'If  you  want  me,  ring  for  the  lay  sister  on  duty  and 
send  for  me/  she  said.  'I  will  come  at  once.' 

She  did  not  remember  that  she  had  ever  before  said 
as  much  to  a  nurse  whose  night  was  beginning. 

1  Thank  you,'  answered  Sister  Giovanna;  'I  think  he 
will  sleep  till  morning.' 

The  door  closed  and  she  made  two  steps  forward  till 
she  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  For  a  few  moments 
she  gazed  intently  at  the  face  she  knew  so  well,  but 
then  her  glance  turned  quickly  toward  the  corner  where 
the  other  nurse  had  sat  beside  the  shaded  lamp.  That 
should  be  her  place,  too,  but  she  could  not  bear  to  be 
so  far  from  him.  Noiselessly  she  brought  a  chair  to 
the  bedside  and  sat  down  so  that  she  could  look  at 


312  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

his  face.  Since  she  had  been  in  the  room  she  had  felt 
something  new  and  unexpected  —  the  deep,  womanly 
joy  of  being  alone  to  take  care  of  the  beloved  one  in 
the  hour  of  his  greatest  need.  She  would  not  have 
thought  it  possible  that  a  ray  of  light  could  penetrate 
her  darkness,  or  that  in  her  deep  distress  anything  ap 
proaching  in  the  most  distant  degree  to  a  sensation  of 
peace  and  happiness  could  conic  near  her.  Yet  it  was 
there  and  she  knew  it,  and  her  heart  rested.  It  was  an 
illusion,  no  doubt,  a  false  dawn  such  as  men  see  in  the 
tropics,  only  to  be  followed  by  a  darker  night;  but 
while  it  lasted  it  was  the  dawn  for  all  that.  It  was  a 
faint,  sweet  breath  of  happiness,  and  every  instinct  of 
her  heart  told  her  that  it  was  innocent.  She  would 
have  been  contented  to  watch  over  him  thus,  in  his 
sleep,  for  ever,  seeing  that  he  too  was  momentarily 
beyond  suffering. 

It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  it  might  be  long  before  any 
change  came;  his  breathing  was  a  little  heavy,  but 
was  regular  as  that  of  a  sleeping  animal;  his  colour 
was  even  and  not  very  pale;  his  eyes  were  quite  shut 
and  the  eyelids  did  not  quiver  nor  twitch.  The  tre 
mendous  drug  had  brought  perfect  calm  and  rest  after 
a  shock  that  would  have  temporarily  shattered  the 
nerves  of  the  strongest  man.  Then,  too,  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  room 
to  suggest  the  terrible  injury  that  was  hidden  under 
the  white  coverlet  —  nothing  but  the  lingering  odour 
of  iodoform,  to  which  the  nun  was  so  well  used  that 
she  never  noticed  it. 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  313 

Hour  after  hour  she  sat  motionless  on  the  chair,  her 
eyes  scarcely  ever  turning  from  his  face.  He  was  so 
quiet  that  there  was  absolutely  nothing  to  be  done; 
to  smooth  his  pillow  or  to  pass  a  gentle  hand  over  his 
forehead  would  have  been  to  risk  disturbing  his  perfect 
quiet,  and  she  felt  not  the  slightest  desire  to  do  either. 
For  a  blessed  space  she  was  able  to  put  away  the  thought 
of  the  question  which  would  be  asked  when  he  wakened, 
and  which  he  only  could  answer.  It  was  not  a  night 
of  weary  waiting  nor  of  anxious  watching;  while  its 
length  lasted,  he  was  hers  to  watch,  hers  alone  to  take 
care  of,  and  that  was  so  like  happiness  that  the  hours 
ran  on  too  swiftly  and  she  was  startled  when  she  heard 
the  clock  of  the  San  Michele  hospice  strike  three;  she 
remembered  that  it  had  struck  nine  a  few  minutes  after 
she  had  sat  down  beside  him. 

Her  anxiety  awoke  again  now,  and  that  delicious 
state  of  peace  in  which  she  had  passed  the  night  began 
to  seem  like  a  past  dream.  In  a  little  more  than  an 
hour  the  dawn  would  begin  to  steal  through  the  outer 
blinds  —  the  dawn  she  had  watched  for  and  longed  for 
a  thousand  times  in  five  years  of  nursing.  It  would  be 
unwelcome  now;  it  would  mean  the  day,  and  the  day 
could  only  mean  for  her  the  inevitable  question. 

She  sat  down  again  to  watch  him,  for  she  had  risen 
nervously  in  the  first  moment  of  returning  distress;, 
and  she  felt  the  cold  of  the  early  morning  stealing  upon 
her  as  she  became  gradually  sure  that  his  breathing  was 
softer,  and  that  from  time  to  time  a  very  slight  quiver 
ing  of  the  closed  lids  proclaimed  the  gradual  return  of 


:J14  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

consciousness.  He  would  not  wake  in  pain,  or  at  least 
not  in  any  acute  suffering;  she  knew  that  by  experi 
ence,  for  in  such  cases  the  nerves  near  the  injured  part 
generally  remained  paralysed  for  a  long  time.  But  he 
would  wake  sleepily  at  first,  wondering  where  he  was, 
glancing  vaguely  from  one  wall  to  another,  from  the 
foot  of  the  bed  or  the  window  to  her  own  face,  without 
recognising  it  or  understanding  anything.  That  first 
stage  might  last  a  few  minutes,  or  half-an-hour;  he 
might  even  fall  asleep  again  and  not  wake  till  much 
later.  But  sooner  or  later  recognition  would  come, 
and  with  it  a  shock  to  him,  a  sudden  tension  of  the 
mind  and  nerves,  under  which  he  might  attempt  to 
move  suddenly  in  his  bed,  and  that  might  be  harmful, 
though  she  could  not  tell  how.  She  wondered  whether 
it  would  not  be  her  duty  to  leave  him  before  that  mo 
ment.  It  was  true  that  he  would  recognise  the  room 
in  which  he  had  so  often  spent  long  hours  with  his 
brother;  he  would  know,  as  soon  as  he  was  conscious, 
that  he  was  in  the  Convent  hospital  and  under  the 
same  roof  with  her;  then  he  would  ask  for  her.  Per 
haps  the  surgeon  would  think  it  better  that  he  should 
see  her,  but  she  would  not  be  left  alone  with  him; 
possibly  she  might  be  asked  by  the  Mother  Superior 
or  by  Monsignor  Saracinesca,  if  he  chanced  to  come 
that  morning,  to  use  her  influence  with  Giovanni  in 
order  that  he  might  submit  to  what  alone  could  save 
him  from  death.  It  was  going  to  be  one  of  the  hardest 
days  in  all  her  life  —  would  God  not  stay  the  dawn  one 
hour? 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  315 

It  was  stealing  through  the  shutters  now,  grey  and 
soft,  and  the  wounded  man's  sleep  was  unmistakably 
lighter.  Sister  Giovanna  drew  back  noiselessly  from 
the  bedside  and  carried  her  chair  to  the  corner  where 
the  little  table  stood,  and  sat  down  to  wait  again.  It 
might  be  bad  for  him  to  wake  and  see  some  one  quite 
near  him,  looking  into  his  face. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened  quietly  and  the 
Mother  Superior  stood  on  the  threshold,  looking  pre- 
ternaturally  white,  even  for  her.  Sister  Giovanna  rose 
at  once  and  went  to  meet  her.  They  exchanged  a  few 
words  in  a  scarcely  audible  whisper.  The  Mother  had 
come  in  person  to  take  the  nun's  place  for  a  while, 
judging  that  it  would  not  be  well  if  Giovanni  wakened 
and  found  himself  alone  with  her. 

The  Sister  went  to  her  cell,  where  she  had  not  been 
since  the  explosion  on  the  previous  evening.  The  brick 
floor  was  strewn  with  broken  glass  and  was  damp  with 
the  fine  rain,  driven  through  the  lattice  by  the  south 
west  wind  during  the  night.  Even  the  rush-bottomed 
chair  was  all  wet,  and  the  edge  of  the  white  counter 
pane  on  the  little  bed.  It  was  all  very  desolate. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

GIOVANNI  opened  his  eyes  at  last,  looked  at  the  ceiling 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  closed  them  again.  Plain 
white  ceilings  are  very  much  alike,  and  for  all  he  could 
see  as  he  looked  up  he  was  at  home  in  his  own  bed,  at 
dawn,  and  there  was  plenty  of  time  for  another  nap. 
He  felt  unaccountably  heavy,  too,  though  not  exactly 
sleepy,  and  it  would  be  pleasant  to  feel  himself  going 
off  into  unconsciousness  again  for  a  while,  knowing 
that  there  was  no  hurry. 

But  his  eyes  had  not  been  shut  long  before  he  became 
aware  that  he  was  in  a  strange  place.  He  could  not  sleep 
again  because  an  unfamiliar  odour  of  iodoform  irritated 
his  nostrils ;  he  missed  something,  too,  either  some  noise 
outside  to  which  he  was  used  or  some  step  near  him. 
In  the  little  house  at  Monteverde  he  could  always  hear 
his  orderly  cleaning  the  stable  early  in  the  morning; 
he  grew  suddenly  uneasy  and  tried  to  turn  in  his  bed, 
and  instead  of  the  noise  of  broom  and  bucket  and  sous 
ing,  he  heard  the  indescribably  soft  sound  of  felt  shoes 
on  tiles  as  the  Mother  Superior  came  to  his  side. 

Then,  in  a  flash,  he  remembered  everything,  up  to  the 
time  when  he  had  been  hurt,  and  after  the  moment  when 
he  had  at  first  come  to  himself  in  the  room  whero  ho  now 
was.  His  eyes  opened  again,  and  he  saw  and  recognised 
the  Mother  Superior,  whom  ho  had  often  seen  and  spoken 

316 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  317 

with  during  his  brother's  stay  in  the  hospital.  Suddenly 
he  was  quite  himself,  for  his  hurt  was  altogether  local 
and  he  had  lost  little  blood ;  he  only  felt  half  paralysed 
on  that  side. 

'Were  there  many  killed?'  he  asked  quietly. 

'We  do  not  know/  the  Mother  answered.  'When 
it  is  a  little  later  I  will  telephone  for  news.  It  is  barely 
five  o'clock  yet/ 

'Thank  you,  Mother.'  He  shut  his  eyes  again  and 
said  no  more. 

The  Mother  Superior  opened  the  window  and  let  in 
the  fresh  morning  air,  full  of  the  glow  of  the  rising  sun, 
for  the  room  looked  to  the  eastward,  across  the  broad  bend 
of  the  Tiber  and  towards  the  Palatine.  She  turned  out 
the  electric  light  in  the  corner,  then  went  to  the  window 
again  and  refreshed  herself  by  drawing  long  breaths  at 
regular  intervals,  as  she  had  been  taught  to  do  when 
she  was  a  beginner  at  nursing.  Presently  the  injured 
man  called  her  and  she  went  to  the  bedside  again. 

'  It  would  be  very  kind  of  you  to  take  down  a  few  words 
which  I  should  like  to  dictate,'  he  said.  'No,'  he  con 
tinued  quickly,  as  he  saw  a  grave  look  in  the  nun's  face, 
'it  is  not  my  will !  It  will  be  a  short  report  of  what 
happened  before  the  explosion.  They  will  want  it  at 
headquarters  and  my  head  is  quite  clear  now.  Will 
you  write  for  me,  Mother  ? ' 

'Of  course.' 

There  is  always  a  pencil  with  a  memorandum-pad 
in  every  private  room  of  a  hospital,  for  the  use  of  the 
nurse  and  the  doctor.  The  Mother  Superior  took  both 


318  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

from  the  table  and  sat  down,  close  to  the  bed,  and 
Giovanni  dictated  what  ho  had  to  say  in  a  clear  and  busi 
nesslike  way  that  surprised  her,  great  as  her  experience 
had  been.  When  he  had  finished,  he  asked  her  to  read 
it  over  to  him,  and  pointed  out  one  small  correction  to  be 
made. 

'I  think  I  can  sign  it  with  my  left  hand,  if  you  will 
hold  it  up  for  me,'  he  said. 

His  fingers  traced  his  name  with  the  pencil,  though 
very  unsteadily,  and  he  begged  her  to  send  it  to  head 
quarters  at  once.  There  was  always  some  one  on  duty 
there,  he  explained,  if  it  was  only  the  subaltern  command 
ing  the  guard.  She  need  not  be  afraid  of  leaving  him 
alone  for  a  few  moments,  he  added,  for  he  was  in  no  pain 
and  did  not  feel  at  all  faint.  Besides,  she  would  now 
send  him  another  nurse  —  he  had  not  thanked  her  for 
taking  care  of  him  herself  during  the  night  —  he  hoped 
she  would  forgive  his  omission  —  he  was  still  - 

And  thereupon,  while  in  the  very  act  of  speaking,  he 
fell  asleep  again,  exhausted  by  the  effort  he  had  made, 
;jnd  still  under  the  influence  of  the  strong  drug.  The 
Mother  understood,  glanced  at  him  and  slipped  away, 
closing  the  door  very  softly.  She  knew  that  stage  of 
awakening  from  the  influence  of  opium,  with  its  alter 
nating  '  zones '  of  sleep  and  waking. 

It  was  half-past  five  now,  and  a  spring  morning,  and 
all  was  astir  downstairs;  lay  sisters  were  gathering  the 
broken  glass  into  baskets,  the  portress  was  clearing 
away  the  wreck  of  broken  panes  from  the  outer  hall, 
and  the  nun  who  had  charge  of  the  chapel  was  preparing 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  319 

the  altar  for  matins.  No  one  was  surprised  to  see  the 
Mother  Superior  in  the  cloister  so  early,  for  she  was  often 
the  first  to  rise  and  almost  always  the  last  to  go  to  rest ; 
the  novices  said  that  the  little  white  volcano  never  slept  at 
all,  but  was  only  '  quiescent '  during  a  part  of  the  night. 

She  found  one  of  the  orderlies  scrubbing  the  outer 
doorstep,  and  despatched  him  at  once  with  Giovanni's 
report,  which  she  had  put  into  an  envelope  and  directed. 
He  was  to  bring  back  an  answer  if  there  was  any;  and 
when  he  was  gone,  as  he  had  not  finished  his  job,  she  took 
the  scrubbing  broom  in  her  small  hands  and  finished  it 
herself,  with  more  energy,  perhaps,  than  had  been  ex 
pended  upon  the  stones  for  some  time.  Before  she  had 
quite  done,  the  portress  caught  sight  of  her  and  was 
filled  with  horror. 

'  For  the  love  of  heaven  ! '  she  cried,  trying  to  take  the 
broom  herself. 

The  nun  would  not  let  it  go,  however,  and  pushed  her 
aside  gently,  with  a  smile. 

'  If  any  one  should  see  your  Reverence  ! '  protested  the 
portress. 

'  My  dear  Anna/  answered  the  Mother  Superior,  giving 
the  finishing  strokes,  'they  would  see  an  old  woman 
washing  a  doorstep,  and  no  harm  would  be  done.7 

But  the  example  remained  impressed  on  the  good  lay 
sister's  mind  for  ever,  and  to  her  last  days  she  will  never 
tire  of  telling  the  novices  how  the  Mother  Superior 
washed  the  doorstep  of  the  hospital  herself  on  the  morn 
ing  after  the  explosion  at  Monteverde. 

The  delivery  of  the  report  produced  a  more  immediate 


THE  WHITE  SISTER 

result  than  either  Giovanni  or  the  Mother  had  expected. 
The  accident  had  happened  near  sunset,  and  the  story 
of  Giovanni's  heroic  behaviour  had  been  repeated  every 
where  before  midnight.  The  men  who  had  found  him 
had,  of  course,  reported  the  fact  after  the  first  confusion 
was  over,  but  it  was  some  time  before  the  news  got  up 
to  any  superior  officer,  though  the  King's  aide-de-camp 
had  left  instructions  that  any  information  about  Giovanni 
was  to  be  telephoned  to  the  Quirinal  at  once.  When 
it  had  been  understood  at  last  that  he  was  in  the  private 
hospital  of  the  White  Sisters,  badly  injured  but  alive, 
it  was  too  late  to  think  of  sending  an  officer  to  make 
inquiries  in  person.  On  the  other  hand,  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning  is  not  too  early  for  most  modem  sovereigns, 
general  officers,  and  members  of  the  really  hard-working 
professions,  among  which  literature  is  sometimes  in 
cluded.  In  half-an-hour  Giovanni's  little  report  had  been 
read,  copied,  telephoned,  and  telegraphed,  and  in  less 
than  half-an-hour  more  a  magnificent  personage  in  the 
uniform  of  a  colonel  of  cavalry  on  the  General  Staff, 
accompanied  by  a  less  gorgeous  but  extremely  smart 
subaltern,  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  Convent  hospital 
in  a  Court  carriage.  He  came  to  ask  after  Captain 
Severi  on  behalf  of  the  Sovereign,  and  to  ascertain 
whether  he  could  perhaps  be  seen  during  the  morning. 
He  was  told  that  this  must  depend  on  the  surgeon's 
decision;  he  expressed  his  thanks  to  the  portress  with 
extreme  civility  and  drove  away  again.  Before  long 
other  officers  came  to  make  similar  inquiries,  in  various 
uniforms  and  in  slightly  varying  degrees  of  smartness, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  321 

from  the  representative  of  the  War  Office  and  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief's  aide-de-camp  to  unpretending  sub 
alterns  in  undress  uniform,  who  were  on  more  or  less 
friendly  terms  with  Giovanni  and  were  suddenly  very 
proud  of  it,  since  he  had  become  a  hero. 

Then  came  the  reporters  and  besieged  the  door  for 
news  —  an  untidy  lot  of  men  at  that  hour,  unshaven, 
hastily  dressed,  and  very  sorry  for  themselves  because 
they  had  been  beaten  up  by  their  respective  papers  so 
early  in  the  morning.  They  were  also  extremely  dis 
appointed  because  the  portress  had  no  story  to  tell  and 
would  not  hear  of  letting  them  in;  and  they  variously 
described  her  afterwards  as  Cerberus,  Argus,  and  the 
Angel  of  the  Flaming  Sword,  which  things  agree  not  well 
together.  The  portress  had  a  busy  morning,  even  after 
Doctor  Fieri  had  come  and  had  written  out  a  bulletin 
which  she  could  show  to  all  comers  as  an  official  state 
ment  of  the  injured  man's  condition. 

The  great  surgeon  and  the  Mother  Superior  sat  on 
opposite  sides  of  his  bed,  and  now  that  the  sun  had  risen 
high  the  blinds  were  half  drawn  together  and  hooked  in 
the  old-fashioned  Roman  way,  to  keep  out  some  of  the 
light,  while  the  glass  was  left  open.  A  broad  stripe  of 
sunshine  fell  across  the  counterpane  below  Giovanni's 
knees,  and  a  sharp  twittering  and  a  rushing  of  wings 
broke  the  stillness  every  few  seconds,  as  the  circling 
swallows  flew  past  the  half-open  window. 

'So  you  refuse  to  undergo  the  operation?'  Fieri  said, 
after  a  long  pause.  '  Is  that  your  last  word  ?  Shall  I 
go  away  and  leave  you  to  die  ? ' 


322  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

'How  long  will  that  take?'  asked  Giovanni  calmly. 

'  Probably  from  four  to  ten  days,  according  to  circum 
stances/  replied  the  surgeon. 

'Say  a  week,  more  or  less.    Will  it  hurt  much?' 

'Not  unless  you  have  lockjaw,  which  is  possible.  If 
you  do,  you  will  suffer.' 

'Horribly,'  said  the  Mother  Superior,  unconsciously 
covering  her  eyes  with  one  hand  for  a  moment ;  she  had 
seen  men  die  of  tetanus. 

'You  will  give  me  anaesthetics,'  Giovanni  answered 
philosophically.  '  Besides,  I  would  rather  bear  pain  for 
a  day  or  two  than  go  through  life  a  cripple  with  an  empty 
sleeve ! ' 

'It  is  deliberate  suicide/  said  the  Mother  Superior 
sadly. 

'I  incline  to  think  so,  too/  echoed  the  surgeon,  'though 
I  believe  the  priests  do  not  exactly  consider  it  so.' 

Though  he  was  half  paralysed  by  his  injury,  Giovanni 
Severi  smiled  grimly. 

'It  would  be  very  amusing  if  I  died  with  the  priests 
on  my  side  after  all/  he  said,  'and  against  our  good 
Mother  Superior,  too !  You  don't  know  how  kind  she 
is,  Doctor ;  she  has  sat  up  all  night  with  me  herself ! ' 

Fieri  was  surprised,  and  looked  quietly  at  the  nun, 
who  immediately  rose  and  went  to  the  window,  pretend 
ing  to  arrange  the  blinds  better.  But  there  are  moments 
when  the  truth  seems  to  reveal  itself  directly  to  more 
than  one  person  at  the  same  time.  The  surgeon,  whose 
intuitions  were  almost  feminine  in  their  swift  directness, 
guessed  at  once  why  the  Mother  did  not  answer:  not 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  323 

only  she  had  not  sat  up  with  Giovanni  herself,  but  she 
had  allowed  Sister  Giovanna  to  do  so,  and  as  the  patient 
had  not  wakened  and  recognised  his  nurse,  it  was  not 
desirable  that  he  should  now  know  the  truth.  As  for 
Giovanni  himself,  the  certainty  that  came  over  him  was 
more  like  'thought-reading,'  for  neither  he  himself  nor 
any  one  else  could  have  explained  the  steps  of  reasoning 
by  which  he  reached  his  conclusion.  It  was  probably 
a  mere  guess,  which  happened  to  be  right,  and  was 
founded  on  a  little  anxious  shrinking  of  the  Mother  Su 
perior's  head  and  shoulders  when  she  crossed  the  room 
and  went  to  the  window,  as  if  she  had  something  to  hide. 
Giovanni  saw  it,  and  then  his  eyes  met  Fieri 's  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  each  was  sure  that  the  other  knew. 

1 1  need  not  ask  you/  Giovanni  said,  'whether  you  are 
absolutely  sure  that  I  must  die  if  you  do  not  take  off 
my  arm  at  the  shoulder  ? ' 

i Humanly  speaking/  replied  the  other  gravely,  'I 
am  quite  sure  that  gangrene  will  set  in  before  to-morrow 
morning,  and  that  is  certain  death  in  your  case/ 

' Why  do  you  say,  in  my  case?' 

'Because/  Fieri  answered  with  a  little  impatience, 
'if  it  began  in  your  foot,  for  instance,  or  in  your  hand, 
it  would  take  some  little  time  to  reach  the  vital  parts, 
and  the  arm  or  leg  could  still  be  amputated;  but  in  your 
case  it  will  set  in  so  near  the  heart  that  no  operation 
will  be  of  any  use  after  it  begins.  Do  you  understand  ?' 

'Perfectly.  I  shall  take  less  time  to  die,  for  the  same 
reason.' 

Severi   was  very  quiet   about  it;    but  the   Mother 


324  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

Superior  turned  on  him  suddenly  from  the  window,  her 
small  face  very  white. 

'It  is  suicide/  she  said —  'deliberate,  intentional 
suicide,  and  no  right-thinking  man,  priest  or  layman, 
would  call  it  by  any  other  name,  let  Doctor  Fieri  say  what 
he  will !  You  are  in  full  possession  of  your  senses,  and 
even  of  your  health  and  strength,  at  this  moment,  and 
you  are  assured  that  you  run  no  risk  if  you  submit  to 
the  doctors,  but  that  if  you  will  not  you  must  die  !  You 
are  choosing  death  where  you  can  choose  life,  and  that  is 
suicide  if  anything  is  !  Doctor  Fieri  knows  well  enough 
what  a  good  priest  would  say,  and  so  do  I,  who  have 
been  a  nurse  for  a  quarter  of  a  century !  If  the  injury 
were  internal,  and  if  there  were  a  real  risk  to  your  life 
in  operating,  you  would  have  the  right,  the  moral  right, 
to  choose  between  the  danger  of  dying  under  ether  and 
the  comparative  certainty  of  dying  of  the  injury.  But 
this  is  a  specific  case.  You  are  young,  strong,  abso 
lutely  healthy,  and  the  chance  of  your  dying  from  the 
anaesthetic  is  not  one  in  thousands,  whereas,  if  nothing 
is  done,  death  is  certain.  I  ask  you,  before  God  and  man 
and  on  your  honour,  whether  you  do  not  know  that  you 
are  committing  suicide  —  nothing  less  than  cowardly, 
dastardly  self-murder ! ' 

'If  I  am,  it  is  my  affair/  answered  Giovanni  coldly; 
'  but  you  need  not  leave  out  the  rest.  You  believe  that 
if  I  choose  to  die  I  shall  go  straight  to  everlasting  punish 
ment.  I  believe  that  if  there  is  a  God  —  and  I  do  not 
deny  that  there  may  be  —  I  shall  not  be  damned  because 
I  would  rather  not  live  at  all  than  go  on  living  as  half  a 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  325 

man.  And  now,  if  you  will  let  me  have  a  cup  of  coffee 
and  a  roll,  I  shall  be  very  grateful,  for  I  have  had  nothing 
to  eat  since  yesterday  at  one  o'clock  ! ' 

He  probably  knew  well  enough  what  such  a  request 
meant  just  then  —  the  putting  off  of  a  possible  operation 
for  hours,  owing  to  the  impossibility  of  giving  ether  to 
a  man  who  has  lately  eaten  anything.  The  Mother  Su 
perior  and  the  surgeon  looked  at  each  other  rather  blankly. 

'Shall  I  die  any  sooner  if  I  am  starved?'  asked  Gio 
vanni  almost  roughly. 

Fieri  began  to  explain  the  danger,  but  Seven  at  once 
grew  more  impatient. 

'I  know  all  that,'  he  said,  'and  I  have  told  you  my 
decision.  I  refuse  to  undergo  an  operation.  If  you 
choose  to  make  me  suffer  from  starvation  I  suppose  it 
is  in  your  power,  though  I  am  not  sure.  I  fancy  I  can 
still  stand  and  walk,  and  even  my  one  hand  may  be  of 
some  use !  If  you  do  not  give  me  something  to  eat,  I 
shall  get  out  of  bed  and  fight  my  way  to  the  larder ! ' 

He  smiled  as  he  uttered  the  threat,  as  if  he  were  not 
jesting  about  his  own  death.  Fieri  did  not  like  it,  and 
turned  to  the  door. 

'Since  you  talk  of  fighting/  he  said,  'I  would  give  you 
ether  by  force,  if  I  could,  and  let  the  law  do  what  it 
would  after  I  had  saved  your  life  in  spite  of  you!  If 
you  chose  to  blow  your  brains  out  afterwards,  that  would 
not  concern  me ! ' 

Thereupon  he  disappeared,  shutting  the  door  more 
sharply  than  doctors  usually  do  when  they  leave  a  sick 
room.  The  Mother  Superior  went  to  the  bedside  and 


THE  WHITE  SISTER 

leaned  over  Giovanni,  looking  into  his  eyes  with  an  ex 
pression  of  profoundest  entreaty. 

'  I  implore  you  to  change  your  mind/  she  said  in  a  low 
and  beseeching  voice,  'for  the  sake  of  the  mother  who 
bore  you  - 

'She  is  dead/  Giovanni  answered  quietly. 

'For  the  sake  of  them  that  live  and  love  you,  them 


'There  is  only  one,  Mother,  and  you  know  it;  but 
for  that  only  one's  love  I  would  live,  not  merely  with 
one  arm,  but  if  every  bone  in  my  body  were  broken  and 
twisted  out  of  shape  beyond  remedy.  Mother,  go  and 
tell  her  so,  and  bring  me  her  answer  —  will  you  ? ' 

The  nun  straightened  herself,  and  her  face  showed 
what  she  suffered;  but  Giovanni  did  not  understand. 

'You  are  afraid/  he  said,  with  rising  contempt  in  his 
tone.  'You  are  afraid  to  take  my  message.  It  would 
move  her !  It  might  tempt  her  from  the  right  way ! 
It  might  put  it  into  her  head  to  beg  for  a  dispensation 
after  all,  and  the  sin  would  be  on  your  soul !  I  under 
stand  —  I  did  not  really  mean  that  you  should  ask  her. 
You  let  her  watch  here  last  ni^ht  when  you  knew  I  could 
not  waken,  but  you  were  careful  that  she  should  be  gone 
before  I  opened  my  eyes.  You  see,  I  have  guessed  the 
truth  !  I  only  wonder  why  you  let  her  stay  at  all !' 

He  moved  his  head  impatiently  on  the  pillow.  The 
Mother  Superior  had  drawn  herself  up  rather  proudly, 
folding  her  hands  under  her  scapular  and  looking  down 
at  him  coldly,  her  face  like  a  marble  mask  again. 

'You  are  quite  mistaken.'  she  said.     'I  will  deliver 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  327 

your  message  and  Sister  Giovanna  shall  give  you  her 
answer  herself.7 

She  went  towards,  the  door,  gliding  across  the  floor 
noiselessly  in  her  felt  shoes;  but  just  before  she  went 
out  she  turned  to  Giovanni  again,  and  suddenly  her 
eyes  were  blazing  like  live  coals. 

'And  if  you  have  the  heart  to  kill  yourself  when  you 
have  talked  with  her/  she  said,  'you  are  a  coward,  who 
never  deserved  to  live  and  be  called  a  man !' 

She  was  gone  before  Giovanni  could  have  answered, 
and  the  man  who  had  risked  life  and  limb  to  save  others 
twelve  hours  earlier  smiled  faintly  at  the  good  Mother's 
womanly  wrath  and  feminine  invective. 

He  lay  still  on  his  back,  staring  at  the  ceiling,  and 
he  began  to  wonder  what  day  of  the  week  it  would  be 
when  he  would  not  be  able  to  see  it  any  more,  and  whether 
the  end  would  come  at  night,  or  when  the  sunlight  was 
streaming  in,  or  on  a  rainy  afternoon.  He  did  not  be 
lieve  that  Angela  would  be  with  him  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  if  she  came  —  she  would  say  - 

The  strength  of  the  morphia  was  not  yet  quite  spent, 
and  he  fell  asleep  in  the  middle  of  his  train  of  thought, 
as  had  happened  while  he  was  speaking  to  the  Mother 
in  the  early  morning. 

When  he  awoke  the  broad  stripe  of  sunshine  no 
longer  fell  across  the  counterpane,  but  lay  on  the  gleam 
ing  tiles  beyond  the  foot  of  the  bed;  and  it  fell,  too, 
on  Sister  Giovanna's  white  frock  and  veil,  for  she  was 
standing  there  motionless,  waiting  for  him  to  waken. 
His  head  felt  queer  for  a  moment,  and  he  wondered 


THE  WHITE  SISTKI! 

whether  she  would  be  standing  on  the  same  spot,  with 
the  same  look,  when  he  would  be  dying,  a  few  days 
hence.  There  were  deep  purplish-brown  rings  under 
her  eyes,  which  seemed  to  have  sunk  deeper  in  their 
sockets;  there  was  no  colour  in  her  lips,  or  scarcely 
more  than  a  shade;  her  young  cheeks  had  grown  sud 
denly  hollow.  For  the  Mother  —  her  mother  —  had  told 
her  everything,  and  it  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
bear. 

He  looked  at  her  two  or  three  times,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  the  ceiling  in  the  intervals,  to  make  sure  that  it 
was  she  and  that  he  was  awake;  for  there  was  some 
thing  in  his  head  that  disturbed  him  now,  a  sort  of 
beating  on  one  side  of  the  brain,  with  a  dull  feeling  at 
the  back,  as  if  there  were  a  quantity  of  warm  lead 
there  that  kept  his  skull  on  the  pillow.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  fever,  but  he  did  not  know  it;  it  was  the 
forewarner  of  the  death  he  was  choosing.  The  experi 
enced  nurse  saw  it  in  his  face. 

'Giovanni,  do  you  know  me?'  she  asked  softly, 
coming  a  step  nearer.  Instantly,  he  had  all  his  facultit  s 
again. 

'Yes;  come  to  me/  he  answered. 

She  came  nearer  and  stood  beside  him. 

'Sit  down/  he  said.  'This  is  the  side  —  the  side  of 
my  good  arm.  Sit  down  and  let  me  take  your  hand, 
dear.' 

She  wondered  at  his  quiet  tone  and  gentle  manner. 
They  almost  frightened  her,  for  she  remembered  taking 
care  of  impatient,  short-tempered  people  who  had  sud- 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  329 

denly  softened  like  this  just  at  the  end.  But  there 
was  no  reason  in  the  world  why  he  should  die  now,  and 
she  dismissed  the  thought  as  she  took  the  hand  he  put 
out  and  held  it.  It  was  icy  cold,  as  strong  men's  hands 
generally  are  when  a  fever  is  just  beginning.  She  tried 
to  warm  it  between  'hers,  covering  it  up  between  her 
palms  as  much  as  she  could;  but  she  herself  was  not 
warm  either,  for  she  had  been  in  her  cell,  where  there  was 
no  sun  in  the  morning,  and  the  air  was  chilly  and  damp, 
because  it  had  rained  in  all  night. 

Giovanni  spoke  again  before  she  could  find  words. 

'My  life  is  in  your  hands,  with  my  hand,  Angela/  he 
said.  'Do  what  you  will  with  it.' 

He  felt  that  she  shook  from  head  to  foot,  like  a  young 
tree  that  is  rudely  struck.  He  went  on,  as  if  he  had 
prepared  his  words,  though  he  had  not  even  thought  of 
them. 

'With  your  love  and  your  companionship,  I  shall 
not  miss  a  limb,  I  shall  not  regret  my  profession,  I  shall 
be  perfectly  happy.  Alone,  I  will  not  be  forced  arti 
ficially  to  live  out  my  life  a  wretched  cripple.7 

It  was  brutal,  and  perhaps  he  knew  it;  but  he  was 
desperate  and  fate  had  given  him  a  weapon  to  move 
any  woman.  In  plain  truth,  it  was  as  cruel  as  if  he 
had  put  a  pistol  to  his  head  and  threatened  to  pull  the 
trigger  if  she  would  not  marry  him.  He  had  not  done 
that  yet,  even  when  she  had  been  in  his  room  at  Monte- 
verde  and  the  loaded  revolver  had  been  between  them. 

Sister  Giovanna  kept  his  hand  bravely  in  hers  and 
sat  still,  though  it  was  hard.  The  question  which 


330  THE   WHITE  SISTER 

must  be  answered,  and  which  she  alone  could  answer, 
had  been  asked  with  frightful  directness,  and  though  she 
had  known  only  too  well  that  it  was  coming,  its  tremen 
dous  import  paralyse*  1  her  and  she  could  not  speak. 

It  was  plainly  this:  Should  she  kill  him,  of  her  own 
free  will,  for  the  sake  of  the  solemn  vow  she  had  taken? 
Or  should  she  save  his  life  by  breaking,  even  under  per 
mission,  what  she  looked  on  as  an  absolutely  inviolable 
promise  ? 

What  made  her  position  most  terrible  was  the  abso 
lute  certainty  of  the  fatal  result,  and  its  close  imminence. 
In  his  condition,  to  put  off  the  operation  for  another 
day,  hi  order  to  consider  her  answer,  would  be  to  con 
demn  him  to  death  according  to  all  probability  of 
human  science,  since  a  few  hours  longer  than  that 
would  put  probability  out  of  the  question  and  make 
it  a  positive  certainty.  She  could  not  speak;  her 
tongue  would  not  move  when  she  tried  to  form  words 
and  her  breath  made  no  sound  in  her  throat. 

For  some  time  Giovanni  said  nothing  more,  and  lay 
quite  still.  When  he  spoke  again,  his  voice  was  gentle. 

'Dear,  since  it  must  be,  I  should  like  it  to  come  like 
this,  if  you  will  —  with  my  hand  between  yours.' 

It  was  too  much,  and  she  cried  aloud  and  bowed 
herself.  But  the  mortal  pain  freed  her  tongue,  and  a 
moment  later  she  broke  out  in  a  fervent  appeal. 

'Live,  Giovanni,  live  —  for  Christ's  good  sake  who 
died  for  you  —  for  my  sake,  too — for  your  own  !  Live 
the  life  that  is  still  before  you,  and  you  can  make  it 
great !  If  you  love  me,  make  it  a  noble  life  for  that, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  331 

if  for  nothing  else !  Do  you  know,  all  Rome  is  ringing 
with  the  story  of  what  you  did  last  night  —  the  King, 
the  Court,  the  Ministers  are  sending  for  news  of  you 
every  half-hour  —  the  world  is  calling  you  a  hero  — 
will  you  let  them  think  that  you  are  afraid  of  an  opera 
tion,  or  will  you  let  my  enemy  tell  the  world  that  you 
have  let  yourself  die  for  my  sake?  That  is  what  it 
comes  to,  one  or  the  other  of  those  things ! ' 

Severi  smiled  faintly  and  shook  his  head  without 
lifting  it  from  the  pillow. 

'No  man  will  call  me  coward/  he  answered;  'and 
no  one  would  believe  Princess  Chiaromonte  —  not  if  she 
took  oath  on  her  death-bed ! ' 

'Will  nothing  move  you?'  cried  the  unhappy  woman, 
in  utter  despair.  'Nothing  that  I  can  say?  Not  the 
thought  of  what  life  will  mean  to  me  when  you  are 
gone?  Not  my  solemn  assurance  that  I  can  do  noth 
ing  —  nothing  — 

'You  can!'  Giovanni  cried,  with  sudden  and  angry 
energy.  'You  are  willing  to  let  me  die  rather  than 
risk  the  salvation  of  your  own  soul.  That  is  the  naked 
truth  of  all  this.' 

Her  hands  left  his  as  if  they  had  lost  their  strength, 
and  she  rose  at  the  same  instant  and  tottered  back 
wards  against  the  near  wall,  speechless  and  transfixed 
with  horror  at  the  mere  thought  that  what  he  said 
might  be  true. 

But  Giovanni's  eyes  did  not  follow  her;  the  door 
had  opened  quietly,  and  Monsignor  Saracinesca  was 
there  and  had  heard  the  last  words. 


332  THE  WHITE  SISTER 

The  prelate's  face  expressed  neither  displeasure  nor 
reproach;  it  was  only  very  thoughtful. 

Giovanni  was  in  no  humour  to  receive  a  visit  from 
a  priest  just  then,  even  though  the  latter  was  an  old 
acquaintance  and  had  once  been  a  friend.  Moreover, 
the  last  time  they  had  been  together,  they  had  parted 
on  anything  but  good  terms.  Giovanni  spoke  first. 

'Have  you  come,  like  the  others,  to  accuse  me  of 
committing  suicide?'  he  asked. 

The  answer  was  unexpected  and  uncompromising. 

'No.' 

Sister  Giovanna,  still  half-stunned  and  steadying  her 
self  against  the  wall,  turned  wondering  eyes  to  the 
speaker.  The  angry  look  in  Seven's  face  changed  to 
one  of  inquiry.  He  strongly  suspected  that  the  church 
man  had  come  to  'convert'  him,  as  the  phrase  goes, 
and  he  was  curious  to  see  what  line  of  argument  a  man 
of  such  intelligence  and  integrity  would  take. 

'No/  repeated  Monsignor  Saracinesca,  'I  have  come 
for  quite  another  purpose,  which  I  hope  to  accomplish 
if  you  will  listen  to  reason.' 

The  nun  stood  erect  now,  though  still  leaning  back 
against  the  wall,  and  she  had  hidden  her  hands  under 
her  scapular. 

'I  do  not  think  I  am  unreasonable,'  Giovanni  an 
swered  quietly.  '  My  position  is  this ' 

'Do  not  tire  yourself  by  going  over  it  all/  the  prel 
ate  answered.  'I  understand  your  position  perfectly, 
for  I  have  been  with  the  Mother  Superior  nearly  half- 
an-hour.  I  am  going  to  take  something  upon  myself, 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  333 

as  a  man,  which  some  of  my  profession  may  condemn. 
I  am  going  to  do  it  because  I  believe  it  is  the  right 
course,  and  I  trust  that  God  will  forgive  me  if  it  is  not.' 

There  was  a  tremor  in  the  good  man's  voice,  and  he 
ceased  speaking,  as  if  to  repeat  inwardly  the  solemn 
words  he  had  just  spoken. 

'What  are  you  going  to  do?'   asked  Giovanni  Severi. 

On  the  question,  the  nun  came  forward  and  rested 
one  hand  on  the  chair  in  which  she  had  sat,  leaning 
towards  the  prelate  at  the  same  time,  with  parted  lips 
and  eyes  full  of  a  strange  anticipation. 

'You  know,  I  daresay,  that  I  am  Secretary  to  the 
Cardinal  Vicar,  and  that  such  cases  as  yours  are  to  a 
great  extent  within  my  province?' 

Giovanni  did  not  know  this,  but  nodded;  the  nun, 
who  knew  it,  bent  her  head,  wondering  more  and  more 
what  was  coming,  and  not  daring  to  guess.  Neither 
spoke. 

'I  am  going  to  lay  the  whole  matter  before  the  Car 
dinal  Vicar  at  once,'  Monsignor  Saracinesca  continued 
calmly.  'I  can  be  with  him  in  twenty  minutes,  and  I 
am  going  to  tell  him  the  plain  truth.  I  do  not  think 
that  any  nun  was  ever  more  true  to  her  vows  than 
Sister  Giovanna  has  been  since  your  return.  But  there 
is  a  limit  beyond  which  fidelity  to  an  obligation  may 
bring  ruin  and  even  death  on  some  one  whom  the 
promise  did  not  at  first  concern.  When  the  limit  is 
reached,  it  is  the  plain  duty  of  those  who  have  received 
that  promise  to  relieve  the  maker  of  it  from  its  observ 
ance,  even  though  not  asked  to  do  so.  That  is  what  I 


334  THE   WHITE  SISTER 

am  going  to  say  to  the  Cardinal  Vicar  in  half-an-hour. 
Are  you  satisfied?' 

Sister  Giovanna  sank  sideways  upon  the  chair,  with 
her  arm  resting  on  the  back  of  it,  and  she  hid  her  face 
in  her  sleeve. 

'Will  the  Cardinal  listen  to  you?'  asked  Giovanni, 
his  voice  unsteady  with  emotion. 

'What  I  recommend  is  usually  done/  answered  the 
prelate,  without  a  shade  of  arrogance,  but  with  the 
quiet  certainty  of  a  man  in  power.  'What  I  ask  of 
you  is,  to  submit  at  once  to  the  operation  that  alone 
can  save  you,  on  the  strength  of  my  assurance  that  I 
am  going  to  do  my  utmost  to  obtain  what  you  desire.' 

'  It  is  hard  to  believe  ! '  Giovanni  exclaimed,  almost  to 
himself. 

The  nun  moved  her  head  silently  from  side  to  side 
without  lifting  her  face  from  her  arm. 

'You  can  believe  me/  Monsignor  Saracinesca  an 
swered.  'I  give  you  my  solemn  promise  before  God, 
and  my  word  of  honour  before  men,  that  I  will  do  the 
utmost  in  my  power  to  succeed.  Do  you  believe  me?' 

Giovanni  held  out  his  sound  hand.  The  churchman 
came  nearer  and  took  it. 

'  Will  you  risk  the  operation  on  that  ? '  he  asked. 

The  light  of  a  profound  gratitude  illuminated  the 
young  soldier's  tired  face,  and  his  fingers  pressed  Mon 
signor  Saracinesca's  spasmodically;  but  his  voice  was 
quiet  when  he  spoke. 

•  >ister  Giovanna ' 

'Yes?' 


THE  WHITE  SISTER  335 

The  nun  looked  up  suddenly  and  drew  a  sharp  breath, 
for  her  joy  was  almost  agonising. 

'Will  you  kindly  go  and  tell  Doctor  Fieri  that  I  am 
ready  ? ' 

The  nun  rose  with  a  spring  and  was  at  the  door  in 
an  instant,  and  in  her  heart  rang  such  a  chorus  of 
glory  and  rejoicing  as  not  even  the  angels  have  heard 
since  the  Morning  Stars  sang  together. 

Of  her,  I  think  the  most  rigid  cannot  say  that  she 
had  not  endured  to  the  end,  for  her  vow's  sake.  Whether 
the  churchman  was  too  human  in  his  sympathies  or  not 
may  be  an  open  question ;  if  he  was,  he  had  the  courage 
to  make  himself  alone  responsible,  for,  as  he  had  fore 
told,  what  he  recommended  was  done ;  if  he  was  wrong, 
he  has  at  least  the  consolation  of  having  brought  un 
speakable  happiness  to  three  human  beings.  For  the 
mother,  whose  heart  had  so  nearly  broken  for  her 
child,  had  her  share  of  joy,  too,  and  it  was  no  small 
one. 


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Saracinesca 

"  The  work  has  two  distinct  merits,  either  of  which  would  serve  to  make  it 
great,  —  that  of  telling  a  perfect  story  in  a  perfect  way,  and  of  giving  a 
graphic  picture  of  Roman  society  in  the  last  days  of  the  Pope's  temporal 
power.  .  .  .  The  story  is  exquisitely  told."  —  Boston  Traveler. 

Sant*   IlariO,      A  Sequel  to  "Saracinesca" 

44  A  singularly  powerful  and  beautiful  story.  ...  It  fulfils  every  requirement 
of  artistic  fiction.  It  brings  out  what  is  most  impressive  in  human  action, 
without  owing  any  of  its  effectiveness  to  sensationalism  or  artifice.  It  is 
natural,  fluent  in  evolution,  accordant  with  experience,  graphic  in  descrip 
tion,  penetrating  in  analysis,  and  absorbing  in  interest."  —  New  York 
Tribune. 

Don   OrSinO.      A  Sequel  to  "Sant*  Ilario" 

41  Perhaps  the  cleverest  novel  of  the  year.  .  .  .  There  is  not  a  dull  para 
graph  in  the  book,  and  the  reader  may  be  assured  that  once  begun,  the 
story  of  Don  Orsino  will  fascinate  him  until  its  close." —  The  Critic. 

Taquisara 

"  To  Mr.  Crawford's  Roman  novels  belongs  the  supreme  quality  of  uniting 
subtly  drawn  characters  to  a  plot  of  uncommon  interest."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

Corleone 

"  Mr.  Crawford  is  the  novelist  born  ...  a  natural  story-teller,  with  wit, 
imagination,  and  insight  added  to  a  varied  and  profound  knowledge  of 
social  life." —  The  Inter- Ocean,  Chicago. 

Casa  BraCCiO.      In  two  'volumes,  $2.00.      Illustrated  by  A. 

Castaigne. 

Like  Taquisara  and  Corleone,  it  is  closely  related  in  plot  to  the  fortunes  of 
the  Saracinesca  family. 

"  Mr.  Crawford's  books  have  life,  pathos,  and  insight ;  he  tells  a  dramatic 
story  with  many  exquisite  touches."  — New  York  Sun. 


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A  Roman  Singer 

"  One  of  the  earliest  and  best  works  of  this  famous  novelist.  .  .  .  None 
but  a  genuine  artist  could  have  made  so  true  a  picture  of  human  life,  crossed 
by  human  passions  and  interwoven  with  human  weakness.  It  is  a  perfect 
specimen  of  literary  art." —  Tfu  Newark  Advertiser. 

Marzio's  Crucifix 

"  We  have  repeatedly  had  occasion  to  say  that  Mr.  Crawford  possesses  in 
an  extraordinary  degree  the  art  of  constructing  a  story.  It  is  as  if  it  could 
not  have  been  written  otherwise,  so  naturally  does  the  story  unfold  itself, 
and  so  logical  and  consistent  is  the  sequence  of  incident  after  incident.  As 
a  story,  Marzio's  Crucifix  is  perfectly  constructed."  —  New  York  Commer 
cial  Advertiser. 

Heart   of  Rome.      A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Water 

"  Mr.  Crawford  has  written  a  story  of  absorbing  interest,  a  story  with  a 
genuine  thrill  in  it  ;  he  has  drawn  his  characters  with  a  sure  and  brilliant 
touch,  and  he  has  said  many  things  surpassingly  well."—  New  York  Times 
Saturday  Review. 

Cecilia*      A  Story  of  Modern  Rome 

"  That  F.  Marion  Crawford  is  a  master  of  mystery  needs  no  new  telling. .  . . 
His  latest  novel,  Cecilia,  is  as  weird  as  anything  he  has  done  since  the 
memorable  Mr.  Isaacs.  ...  A  strong,  interesting,  dramatic  story,  with 
the  picturesque  Roman  setting  beautifully  handled  as  only  a  master's  touch 
could  do  it."  —  Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

Whosoever  Shall  Offend 

"  It  is  a  story  sustained  from  beginning  to  end  by  an  ever  increasing  dra 
matic  quality.  "  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

Pietro  Ghisleri 

"  The  imaginative  richness,  the  marvellous  ingenuity  of  plot,  the  power  and 
subtlety  ofthe  portrayal  of  character,  the  charm  of  the  romantic  environ 
ment, —  the  entire  atmosphere,  indeed,  —  rank  this  novel  at  once  among 
the  great  creations." —  The  Boston  Budget. 

To  Leeward 

"  The  four  characters  with  whose  fortunes  this  novel  deals  are,  perhaps, 
the  most  brilliantly  executed  portraits  in  the  whole  of  Mr.  Crawford's  long 
picture  gallery,  while  for  subtle  insight  into  the  springs  of  human  passion 
and  for  swift  dramatic  action  none  of  the  novels  surpasses  this  one.  — Tk* 
News  and  Courier. 


A  Lady  of  Rome 


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Mr.  Crawford  has  no  equal  as  a  writer  of  brilliant  cosmopolitan  fiction,  in 
which  the  characters  really  belong  to  the  chosen  scene  and  the  story  inter 
est  is  strong.  His  novels  possess  atmosphere  in  a  high  degree. 

Mr.  Isaacs  (India) 

Its  scenes  are  laid  in  Simla,  chiefly.  This  is  the  work  which  first  placed 
its  author  among  the  most  brilliant  novelists  of  his  day. 

Greifenstein  (The  Black  Forest) 

"...  Another  notable  contribution  to  the  literature  of  the  day.  It  pos 
sesses  originality  in  its  conception  and  is  a  work  of  unusual  ability.  Its 
interest  is  sustained  to  the  close,  and  it  is  an  advance  even  on  the  previous 
work  of  this  talented  author.  Like  all  Mr.  Crawford's  work,  this  novel  is 
crisp,  clear,  and  vigorous,  and  will  be  read  with  a  great  deal  of  interest." — 
New  York  Evening  Telegram. 

Zoroaster  (Persia) 

"  It  is  a  drama  in  the  force  of  its  situations  and  in  the  poetry  and  dignity  of 
its  language;  but  its  men  and  women  are  not  men  and  women  of  a  play. 
By  the  naturalness  of  their  conversation  and  behavior  they  seem  to  live  and 
lay  hold  of  our  human  sympathy  more  than  the  same  characters  on  a  stage 
could  possibly  do."  —  The  New  York  Times. 

The  Witch  of  Prague  (Bohemia) 

"  A  fantastic  tale?  illustrated  by  W.J.Henncssy. 

"  The  artistic  skill  with  which  this  extraordinary  story  is  constructed  and 
carried  out  is  admirable  and  delightful.  .  .  .  Mr.  Crawford  has  scored  a 
decided  triumph,  for  the  interest  of  the  tale  is  sustained  throughout.  .  .  . 
A  very  remarkable,  powerful,  and  interesting  story."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

Paul   Patoff  (Constantinople) 

41  Mr.  Crawford  has  a  marked  talent  for  assimilating  local  color,  not  to 
make  mention  of  a  broader  historical  sense.  Even  though  he  may  adopt, 
as  it  is  the  romancer's  right  to  do,  the  extreme  romantic  view  of  history,  it  is 
always  a  living  and  moving  picture  that  he  evolves  for  us,  varied  and  stir 
ring."  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

Marietta  (Venice) 

"  No  living  writer  can  surpass  Mr.  Crawford  in  the  construction  of  a  com 
plicated  plot  and  the  skilful  unravelling  of  the  tangled  skein." —  Chicago 
Record-Herald. 

"  He  has  gone  back  to  the  field  of  his  earlier  triumphs,  and  has,  perhaps, 
scored  the  greatest  triumph  of  them  all."  —New  York  Herald. 


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Via   Crucis.     A  Romance  of  the  Second  Crusade.      Illustrated 
by  Louis  Loeb 

"  Via  Cruets  ...  A  tale  of  former  days,  possessing  an  air  of  reality  and  an 
absorbing  interest  such  as  few  writers  since  Scott  have  been  able  to  accom 
plish  when  dealing  with  historical  characters."  —  Boston  Transcript, 

In  the  Palace  of  the  King  (Spain) 

"  In  the  Palace  of  the  King  is  a  masterpiece ;  there  is  a  picturesqueness,  a 
sincerity  whicn  will  catch  all  readers  in  an  agreeable  storm  of  emotion,  and 
even  leave  a  hardened  reviewer  impressed  and  delighted."  —  Literature, 
London. 

With  the  Immortals 

"  The  strange  central  idea  of  the  story  could  have  occurred  only  to  a  writer 
whose  mind  was  very  sensitive  to  the  current  of  modern  thought  and  prog 
ress,  while  its  execution,  the  setting  it  forth  in  proper  literary  clothing, 
could  be  successfully  attempted  only  by  one  whose  active  literary  ability 
should  be  fully  equalled  by  his  power  of  assimilative  knowledge  both  lit 
erary  and  scientific,  and  no  less  by  his  courage  and  capacity  for  hard  work. 
The  book  will  be  found  to  have  a  fascination  entirely  new  for  the  habitual 
reader  of  novels.  Indeed,  Mr.  Crawford  has  succeeded  in  taking  his  read 
ers  quite  above  the  ordinary  plane  of  novel  interest."  —  Boston  Advertiser. 

Children  of  the  King  (Calabria) 

"  One  of  the  most  artistic  and  exquisitely  finished  pieces  of  work  that 
Crawford  has  produced.  The  picturesque  setting,  Calabria  and  its  sur 
roundings,  the  beautiful  Sorrento  and  the  Gulf  of  Salerno,  with  the  bewitch 
ing  accessories  that  climate,  sea,  and  sky  afford,  give  Mr.  Crawford  rich 
opportunities  to  show  his  rare  descriptive  powers.  As  a  whole  the  book  is 
strong  and  beautiful  through  its  simplicity,  and  ranks  among  the  choicest 
of  the  author's  many  fine  productions."  —  Public  Opinion. 

A  Qgarette  Maker's  Romance  (Munich) 

and    Khaled,  a  Tale  of  Arabia 

"Two  gems  of  subtle  analysis  of  human  passion  and  motive." —  Times. 
"  The  interest  is  unflagging  throughout.  Never  has  Mr.  Crawford  done 
more  brilliant  realistic  work  than  here.  But  his  realism  is  only  the  case 
and  cover  for  those  intense  feelings  which,  placed  under  no  matter  what 
humble  conditions,  produce  the  most  dramatic  and  the  most  tragic  situa 
tions.  . . .  This  is  a  secret  of  genius,  to  take  the  most  coarse  and  common 
material,  the  meanest  surroundings,  the  most  sordid  material  prospects, 
and  out  of  the  vehement  passions  which  sometimes  dominate  all  human 
beings  to  build  up  with  these  poor  elements,  scenes  and  passages  the 
dramatic  and  emotional  power  of  which  at  once  enforce  atteution  and 
awaken  the  profoundest  interest."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

Arethusa  (Constantinople) 

Dr.  Cooper,  in  The  Bookman,  once  gave  to  Mr.  Crawford  the  title  which 
best  marks  his  place  in  modern  fiction  :  "  the  prince  of  storytellers." 


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A  Tale  of  a  Lonely  Parish 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  have  anything  so  perfect  of  its  kind  as  this  brief  and 
vivid  story.  ...  It  is  doubly  a  success,  being  full  of  human  sympathy,  as 
well  as  thoroughly  artistic  in  its  nice  balancing  of  the  unusual  with  the 
commonplace,  the  clever  juxtaposition  of  innocence  and  guilt,  comedy 
and  tragedy,  simplicity  and  intrigue."  —  Critic. 

Dr*   Claudius*     A  True  Story 

The  scene  changes  from  Heidelberg  to  New  York,  and  much  of  the  story 
develops  during  the  ocean  voyage. 

"There  is  a  satisfying  quality  in  Mr.  Crawford's  strong,  vital,  forceful 
stories."  —  Boston  Herald. 

An   American   Politician*        The  scenes  are  laid  in  Boston 

"  It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  story  is  skilfully  and  picturesquely  written, 
portraying  sharply  individual  characters  in  well-defined  surroundings."  — 
New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

The  Three  Fates 

"  Mr.  Crawford  has  manifestly  brought  his  best  qualities  as  a  student  of 
human  nature  and  his  finest  resources  as  a  master  of  an  original  and 
picturesque  style  to  bear  upon  this  story.  Taken  for  all  in  all,  it  is  one  of 
the  most  pleasing  of  all  his  productions  in  fiction,  and  it  affords  a  view  of 
certain  phases  of  American,  or  perhaps  we  should  say  of  New  York,  life 
that  have  not  hitherto  been  treated  with  anything  like  the  same  adequacy 
and  felicity."  —  Boston  Beacon. 

Marion  Darche 

-  Full  enough  of  incident  to  have  furnished  material  for  three  or  four 
stories.  ...  A  most  interesting  and  engrossing  book.  Every  page  unfolds 
new  possibilities,  and  the  incidents  multiply  rapidly."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 
"  We  are  disposed  to  rank  Marion  Darche  as  the  best  of  Mr.  Crawford's 
American  stories."  —  The  Literary  World. 

Katharine  Lauderdale 

The   RalstonS.     A  Sequel  to  "Katharine  Lauderdale" 

"  Mr.  Crawford  at  his  best  is  a  great  novelist,  and  in  Katharine  Lauderdale 
we  have  him  at  his  best."  —  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  A  most  admirable  novel,  excellent  in  style,  flashing  with  humor,  and  full 
of  the  ripest  and  wisest  reflections  upon  men  and  women."  —  The  West 
minster  Gazette. 

"  It  is  the  first  time,  we  think,  in  American  fiction  that  any  such  breadth  of 
view  has  shown  itself  in  the  study  of  our  social  framewoik."  —  Life. 


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Mr.    F.   MARION   CRAWFORD'S 

LATER  NOVELS -THE  SINGER  TRILOGY 

Three  novels,  each  an  independent,  interesting  episode  from 
the  life  of  Margaret  Donne,  the  fascinating  English  girl  who 
Idler  became  the  most  famous  lyric  soprano  of  her  day. 

Each,  illustrated,  $1.50 

Fair  Margaret 

tells  of  its  heroine's  student  days,  of  the  conflicting  claims  of  lovers  and  a 
career ;  of  a  retired  opera  singer  in  Paris  whose  portrait  alone  makes  the 
book  one  to  be  treasured  by  those  who  know ;  and,  in  brief,  of  a  girl's  first 
glimpse  of  the  great  unknown  world  beyond  the  footlights. 

The  Primadonna 

"  Mr.  Crawford  is  at  his  best  in  this  romance.  He  tells  an  absorbing  s«ory, 
and  he  places  at  the  centre  of  it  a  woman  whose  character  is  full  of  interest. 
...  It  is  a  dramatic  beginning,  and  Mr.  Crawford  goes  on  as  he  begins 
.  .  .  the  whole  tangled  business  becomes  more  and  more  exciting  and  we 
follow  the  Primadonna  through  the  proceedings  with  breathless  interest." 
—  New  York  Tribune. 


The  Diva's  Ruby 


"  F.  Marion  Crawford  is  one  of  the  few  writers  who  have  mastered  the  art 
of  writing  sequels  that  are  as  vital  and  as  absorbing  as  the  original  novels 
.  .  .  sequels  wherein  the  finding  of  a  character  mentioned  in  an  earlier 
story  gives  us  the  full  delight  of  meeting  an  old  friend.  .  .  .  This  delicate 
paradoxical  evolution  ...  is  art,  clean,  deft,  easy,  dexterous  art.  There 
are  not  half  a  dozen  men  in  literature  to-day  who  could  do  these  things 
consistently."  —  New  York  Times  Review. 


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BY  FRANK  DANBY 

The  Heart  of  a  Child 

BEING   PASSAGES   FROM  THE  EARLY  LIFE 
OF   SALLY   SNAPE,   LADY   KIDDERMINSTER 

Cloth,  $1.50 

" '  Frank  Danby '  has  found  herself.  It  is  full  of  the  old  wit,  the  old  humor, 
the  old  epigram,  and  the  old  knowledge  of  what  I  may  call  the  Bohemia  of 
London;  but  it  is  also  full  of  a  new  quality,  the  quality  of  imaginative  tender 
ness  and  creative  sympathy.  It  is  delightful  to  watch  the  growth  of  human 
character  either  in  life  or  in  literature,  and  in  'The  Heart  of  a  Child '  one  can 
see  the  brilliancy  of  Frank  Danby  suddenly  burgeoning  into  the  wistfulness  that 
makes  cleverness  soft  and  exquisite  and  delicate.  ...  It  is  a  mixture  of  nat 
uralism  and  romance,  and  one  detects  in  it  the  miraculous  power  ...  of  see 
ing  things  steadily  and  seeing  them  wholly,  with  relentless  humor  and  pitiless 
pathos.  The  book  is  crowded  with  types,  and  they  are  all  etched  in  with 
masterly  fidelity  of  vision  and  sureness  of  touch,  with  feminine  subtlety  as  well 
as  virile  audacity."  —  JAMES  DOUGLAS  in  The  Star,  London. 

" '  The  Heart  of  a  Child '  is,  beyond  question,  Mrs.  Frankan's  best  novel, 
carefully  planned,  vividly  suggestive  of  a  real  world  and  real  character,  touch 
ing  the  human  emotions  without  any  more  extravagance  than  they  contain 
themselves,  and  throwing  a  strong  light  upon  London  and  the  Londoners  of 
to-day.  .  .  . 

"  The  facility  of  phrase  and  the  quickness  of  action,  the  successive  shifting 
of  a  scene  from  one  section  of  London  to  another,  the  varied  contrast  of  char 
acters  and  its  faithful  pictures  of  life  both  high  and  low,  give  to  '  The  Heart  of  a 
Child'  a  picturesque  quality  that  keeps  the  reader  alert  throughout  the  story. 
Mrs.  Frankan's  style  is  full  of  life.  She  compels  us  to  see  the  things  she  de 
scribes  as  she  herself  sees  them,  and  she  furthermore  convinces  us  of  their 
truth.  It  is,  in  short,  the  truth  of  'The  Heart  of  a  Child'  that  holds  us."-— 
The  Daily  Evening  Transcript,  Boston. 

"The  story  begins  realistically,  and  ends  in  romance,  but  the  romance  is  of 
real  life;  and  through  all  her  drab,  squalid,  perilous  experiences  Sally  carries 
the  frank,  pure  heart  of  a  child,  and  takes  no  harm.  Her  character  is  a  fine 
and  masterly  study,  and  '  it  is  her  character  that  counts,'  as  her  aristocratic 
father-in-law  says  when  he  has  met  her  and  is  reconciled  to  his  son's  marriage. 
'  She  has  a  man's  sense  of  honor,  coupled  with  a  child's  unconsciousness  of 
expediency.'  Every  way  a  remarkable  novel,  and  one  that  confirms  and  in 
creases  our  admiration  for  its  author's  exceptional  gifts."  —  The  Bookman, 
London. 

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Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


Mr.  ROBERT  HERRICK'S  NOVELS 


Cloth,  extra,  gilt  tops,  each  $1.50 


The  Gospel  of  Freedom 


"A  novel  that  may  truly  be  called  the  greatest  study  of  social  life,  in  a 
broad  and  very  much  up-to-date  sense,  that  has  ever  been  contributed 
to  American  fiction." —  Chicago  Inter- Ocean. 

The  Web  of  Life 

"It  is  strong  in  that  it  faithfully  depicts  many  phases  of  American  life, 
and  uses  them  to  strengthen  a  web  of  fiction,  which  is  most  artistically 
wrought  out."  —  Buffalo  Express. 

Jock  o'  Dreams,  or  The  Real  World 

"The  title  of  the  book  has  a  subtle  intention.  It  indicates,  and  is  true 
to  the  verities  in  doing  so,  the  strange  dreamlike  quality  of  life  to  the 
man  who  has  not  yet  fought  his  own  battles,  or  come  into  conscious  pos 
session  of  his  will  —  only  such  batiks  bite  into  the  consciousness."  — 
Chicago  Tribune. 

The  Common  Lot 

"  It  grips  the  reader  tremendously.  ...  It  is  the  drama  of  a  human 
soul  the  reader  watches  .  .  .  the  finest  study  of  human  motive  that  has 
appeared  for  many  a  day." —  The  World  To-day. 

The   Memoirs   of  an   American   Citizen.     Illustrated 

with  about  fifty  drawings  by   F.    B.    Masters. 

"  Mr.  Herrick's  book  is  a  book  among  many,  and  he  comes  nearer  to 
reflecting  a  certain  kind  of  recognizable,  contemporaneous  American 
spirit  than  anybody  has  yet  done."  —  New  York  Times. 
"  Intensely  absorbing  as  a  story,  it  is  also  a  crisp,  vigorous  document  of 
startling  significance.  More  than  any  other  writer  to-day  he  is  giving  us 
the  American  novel."  —  New  York  Globe. 

Together 

"The  thing  is  straight  from  life.  .  .  .     The  spirit  of  the  book  is  in  the 
end  bracing  and  quickening."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 
"An  able  book,  remarkably  so,  and  one  which  should  find  a  place  in  the 
library  of  any  woman  who  is  not  a  fool."  —  New  York  American. 


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BY  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

The  Three  Brothers 


Cloth,  $1.50 


"'The  Three  Brothers'  seems  to  us  the  best  yet  of  the  long  series  of  these 
remarkable  Dartmoor  tales.  If  Shakespeare  had  written  novels  we  can  think 
that  some  of  his  pages  would  have  been  like  some  of  these.  Here  certainly  is 
language,  turn  of  humor,  philosophical  play,  vigor  of  incident  such  as  might 
have  come  straight  from  Elizabeth's  day.  .  .  .  The  story  has  its  tragedy,  but 
this  is  less  dire,  more  reasonable  than  the  tragedy  is  in  too  many  of  Mr.  Phill- 
potts's  other  tales.  The  book  is  full  of  a  very  moving  interest,  and  it  is  agree 
able  and  beautiful."  —  The  New  York  Sun. 

"That  Eden  Phillpotts  is  the  greatest  contemporary  English  novelist  since 
Hardy  and  Meredith  have  ceased  writing,  '  The  Three  Brothers '  will  furnish 
proof.  .  .  .  Any  man  who  can  appreciate  a  well-sustained  plot,  abundant 
and  true  action,  superb  character-drawing,  a  crowded  canvas  with  every  figure 
on  it  alive,  standing  out  as  clear  and  real  as  your  own  neighbors,  ought  to 
read  ' The  Three  Brothers.' 

"  It  is  a  great  novel.  It  has  the  vitality  to  outlive  a  thousand  more  popular 
tales,  and  it  is  rich  in  wit  and  humor,  sound  thinking,  fine  feeling,  insight  and 
truth."  —  The  Record-Herald,  Chicago. 


The  Secret  Woman 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  CHILDREN  OF  THE  MIST,"  ETC. 

"Nothing  could  be  more  tenderly  beautiful  than  the  opening  chapter  of 
this,  Mr.  Phillpotts's  strongest  story.  .  .  .  There  cannot  be  two  opinions  as 
to  the  interest  and  the  power  of  'The  Secret  Woman.'  It  is  not  only  its 
author's  masterpiece,  but  it  is  far  in  advance  of  anything  he  has  yet  written  — 
and  that  is  to  give  it  higher  praise  than  almost  any  other  comparison  with 
contemporary  fiction  could  afford."  —  The  Times'  Saturday  Review,  New 
York. 

"Sombre,  passionate,  intensely  and  poignantly  dramatic,  'The  Secret 
Woman '  is  by  far  the  finest  novel  that  Mr.  Phillpotts  has  yet  given  us,  and  to 
say  this  is  to  say  a  good  deal.  We  do  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  the  last 
decade  has  produced,  so  far  as  our  knowledge  extends,  only  one  English  novel 
of  equal  power  and  impressiveness."  —  East  Anglian  Times,  London. 


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NOVELS,  ETC.,  BY  "BARBARA" 

(MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT) 


Each,  in  decorated  cloth  binding,  $1.50 


The  Garden  of  a  Commuter's  Wife          Illustrated 

"  Reading  it  is  like  having  the  entry  into  a  home  of  the  class  that  is  the 
proudest  product  of  our  land,  a  home  where  love  of  books  and  love  of 
nature  go  hand  in  hand  with  hearty,  simple  love  of  '  folks.'  ...  It  is  a 
charming  book." —  The  Interior. 

People  of  the  Whirlpool  Illustrated 

"  The  whole  book  is  delicious,  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its  just  per 
spective  of  the  true  values  of  things,  its  clever  pen  pictures  of  people  and 
customs,  and  its  healthy  optimism  for  the  great  world  in  general."  — 
Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

The  Woman  Errant 

"  The  book  is  worth  reading.  It  will  cause  discussion.  It  is  an  interest 
ing  fictional  presentation  of  an  important  modern  question,  treated  with 
fascinating  feminine  adroitness."  —  Miss  JEANNETTE  GILDER  in  The  Chi 
cago  Tribune. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  Fox 

"  Her  little  pictures  of  country  life  are  fragrant  with  a  genuine  love  of 
nature,  and  there  is  fun  as  genuine  in  her  notes  on  rural  character.  A 
travelling  pieman  is  one  of  her  most  lovable  personages ;  another  is  Tatters, 
a  dog,  who  is  humanly  winsome  and  wise,  and  will  not  soon  be  forgotten 
by  the  reader  of  this  very  entertaining  book."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

The  Garden,  You  and  I 

"This  volume  is  simply  the  best  she  has  yet  put  forth,  and  quite  too  deli- 
ciously  torturing  to  the  reviewer,  whose  only  garden  is  in  Spain.  .  .  .  The 
delightful  humor  which  pervaded  the  earlier  books,  and  without  which 
Barbara  would  not  be  Barbara,  has  lost  nothing  of  its  poignancy,  and 
would  make  '  The  Garden,  You  and  I '  pleasant  reading  even  to  the  man 
who  doesn't  know  a  pink  from  a  phlox  or  a  Daphne  cneorum  from  a 
Cherokee  rose."  —  Congregationalist. 

The   Open   Window.      Talcs  of  the  Months. 


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YB  73467 


